Champions United
by FreedomandDisorder
Summary: Harry's fourth year has an inauspicious beginning. Unwillingly chosen as a champion he is scared. What will happen if the other champions decide that there is something more important than eternal glory?
1. Chapter 1

Harry stumbled into the antechamber. His palms were cold and trembling. He felt his chest constrict and his stomach rolled chaotically. His name. his name in the goblet. His name came out of the goblet. He felt sick.

"Do zhey want us to go back?" Fleur Delacour's thick accent startled Harry. His eyes refocused on the three older teens. Krum was leaning against the stonework hearth. Cedric was slumped against the plush couch looking grim. Fleur was nearest to him, her expression was superior and a bit defensive, but it faded as Harry failed to answer her. Her fair face twisted in confusion. "Are 'ou well?" she took a step closer. Arms uncrossing in concern for the slight teen.

Cedric looked up, brows furrowed. "Harry?" He rose from his seat and came close. "Harry, are you okay?" He swung one arm around his fellow Seeker and led him over to the couch. He could feel Harry shivering under his thick robes. "Sit down. What happened?"

Harry stared ahead. He absently considered that he was going into some sort of shock. He felt dizzy. He was confused.

Air wasn't coming easy. His lungs wouldn't expand, his chest felt tight. How did his name get into the Goblet? His face felt hot. He didn't put his name in the Goblet. His sight was blurring and growing dim. Ron said people had DIED in this tournament. His stomach curled in tight waves and jolts. His name came out of the Goblet. He could taste pennies, hot and sharp, in the back of his throat. He didn't put his name in. His mind kept going in circles, making him dizzy. He was in the Tournament. He didn't put his name in. he didn't want this. He felt sick.

"Lean 'im forward." Fleur commanded, coming forward with a wet rag and began dabbing the back of his neck. Harry wasn't sure where she had gotten the rag but he was grateful. Cedric pushed Harry's head and shoulders until he was leaning down. His chin touching his knees. His head swam. The stone floor rose up to him and he gagged against the sight.

Krum came forward after snagging a metal bin. He crouched in front of Harry and pressed the bin between his knees. "Close your eyes." He commanded, his accent was just as thick as Fleurs. But whereas hers was light and airy, Krum's was deeper and more guttural. It was like comparing a flute to a French horn. But Krum's voice however thick, was also kind. Harry obeyed him.

Harry shut his eyes, but the darkness behind his lids didn't help with the swirling of his gut. With a hot sob, Harry lost his dinner. The metal bin caught the mess and Harry slid a hand around his churning middle. Fleur pressed a hand against her nose delicately at the ghastly smell but kept padding the cool rag against Harry's sweaty neck. She could feel him trembling underneath her hand. She and Cedric met each others eyes over Harry's shoulders. They winced in matched sympathy for the younger teen and distaste of the rancid smell of sick.

Krum ignored the smell, although he was closest to the bin. He shifted so that his knee took his weight and leaned forward. He pressed one hand on Harry's side. "Match me." He grunted. He paused a moment to marvel at the thinness of the boy. But he pushed that thought aside. He made heavy slow breathing sounds. Matching his exhales with a firm press of his hand to ground Harry.

Harry tried matching Krum. Two soft quick breaths in, matched with one long slow breath out. Cedric joined them in the slow breathing. Fleur put a petite hand on his spine and gently rubbed up and down.

A quiet moment passed as the three older students cared for the smallest. The thick wooden door slammed against the heavy stone wall with a loud bang, permitting a flood of adults into the room.

All of the teens startled, but Harry caught his breath wrong. A long exhale cutting off into a gasp. A glob of spit went down his airway. Harry coughed and tried to dislodge the wetness. The adults didn't seem to notice.

"Zhis is an Outrage!" Madam Maxine boomed over all the noise. Her thundering footstep shook the room.

"This is Flagrant cheating by Hogwarts! Karkaroff was equally incensed as he stomped inside. His fur lined cloak swirled impatiently around his ankles.

Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman marched in alongside Professor Dumbledore and the other headmaster and headmistress. Professors Snape, McGonagall and Moody followed behind.

"Vhat is this?" Krum stood up and faced the adults. "Headmasder, what has happened?" Karkaroff sneered at Dumbledore as he answered his student. "Two champions. Dumbledore seeks to pad his schools chances with an additional competitor."

"Deux? With who?" Fleur's lips twisted at the idea, at the unfairness of the host school doubling their odds.

"With zheir own celebrity." Madam Maxine huffed "'Arry Potter."

The three chosen teens blinked and twisted around to look at the sickly boy between them.

"Mon Duex?! Him? 'e is a boy!" Fleur gasped disbelievingly, her blue eyes wide and unbelieving.

"Professor Dumbledore, you can't allow this! Harry is just a fourth year!" Cedric kept his arm around Harry. The younger boys thin shoulder blades pressed sharply against him, Cedric just kept thinking how _small_ Harry was for a fourth year. He could pass for a second year easily with his physic, seeker build or not.

"See! See?!" Karkaroff roared. "Your own champion sees that this is a farce!" His black eyes glared at Dumbledore. His thick lips curling into a sneer, small flecks of dinner peeked out from between his yellowed teeth.

Professor Snape emerged from the shadowed corners with a dark sneer on his lips. Both McGonagall and Mad-eye at his elbows. "I find it odd that the subject of this dispute is so silent." The potions master hissed out, beady eyes trained on him.

As if just remembering him, the mob turned to Harry. The teen was still curled around the bin, the faint scent of sick around him. He didn't speak. Violent silent coughs racked his body.

" ?" McGonagall pressed. "What do you here to say about this?" Her scottish lilt was thicker in her concern.

"Blegh!" More sick came tumbling out of him. Cedric winced and kept rubbing soothing circles over his shoulders.

Fleur's hands fluttered around him. "Pauvre Enfant!" she cooed consolingly as she pushed Harry's sweaty bangs away from his face. Harry lifted his head to stare at Dumbledore. "I didn't put my name in!" His green eyes begging to be believed.

"'Ow could zhis 'ave 'appened?" Maxine demanded again, her impossibly large hands fluttered delicately around her throat. The smell of sick was obviously making her sway with nausea.

Crouch stepped forward to speak, fiddling with his peppered mustache. "It seems Mr. Potters name was put under a fourth school, having no other candidates from that school, the goblet had no choice but to pick Mr. Potter. Making him in effect, A fourth champion."

"Vhat school?!" Karkaroff growled, obviously looking for someone to blame. Dumbledore flipped the scorched slip of parchment over. "Illvermorny, it seems." The old professor sighed.

"Where is that?" Harry grimaced around the taste left in his mouth. Cedric pushed a goblet of water toward him. "It's in America."

"Oh." Harry gulped the cool drink and gave Cedric a grateful nod.

"We as we can all agree that Mr. Potter is not a student at that academy. Could the goblet's choice be considered void? After all it choice the Harry Potter of Illvermorny not Harry Potter of Hogwarts." McGonagall primed.

"Unfortunately no," Crouch huffed. "The goblet has already acknowledged Mr. Potter's magical signature." His mustache twitched spastically.

"Zen we must add our own student names again until we also 'ave two champions each!" the large French madam slapped her hand on the heavy table next to her, leaving a sizable dent.

"The Goblet has gone out Madam." Ludo Bagman wiped a handkerchief on his shiny brow, his expression was inappropriately pleased. "It won't be relit until the next tournament. Mr. Potter has no choice but to compete."

"Are you Mad!?" Cedric stood and stomped until he was nose to nose with the sweaty man. "He's fourteen! He didn't want this! Look at him!" He swung an arm to gesture to Harry. Who was looking a bit better but still pale. Cedric twisted to look beseechingly at Dumbledore. Surly their headmaster wouldn't allow this? "Professor, he's a fourth year. There's no way…I mean, you Can't...people have died…" his voice faded off as he watched Dumbledore's passive expression remain unmoved.

"There is no choice, Mr. Potter will have to compete as a fourth champion." Dumbledore sighed. Cedric looked aghast "Headmaster…"

Mad-eye thumped his heavy staff closer to the center of the room, drawing eyes. "I'm more concerned about who put his name in." the snarled face man growled, both Madame Maxine and Fleur took hasty steps away from him.

"Vhat do you mean?" Victor tilted his head like an overly large, awkwardly shaped bird.

"A tournament guaranteed to be dangerous, violent, and bloody impossible for him? Up against 17 year old competitors? It seems to me like someone is hedging their bets on him dying. Clever tactic. Let the Tournament do the work for 'em. It's not a murder if it's in the name of sportsmanship eh?" Mad-eye looked around the room, growling suspiciously. "And I'm sure we can all imagine the sort who would want the lad dead?" his bulbous magical eye swirled and seemed to rest heavily on Karkaroff.

"Alastor!" McGonagall scolded, looking pale. "That is enough."

"It's late in the evening already and there is this much to be discussed. Why don't our champions return to their rooms for now and the rest of us continue this discussion?" Dumbledore came forward and shooed the students out of the chamber.

Harry still looked pale but he was no longer sick or shaken as hard. Cedric bit his lip. He didn't know Harry that well, mostly through Quidditch. But had he always seemed this, well, this small? He didn't even come up to his shoulder!

"Is diz how things are dun in your country?" Victor scowled "Letting childs fight in…in..uh.." He looked stuck, lost for the correct English word, before blurting "…Death fights." He clenched his jaw.

"I didn't think it was but.." Cedric looked furious and helpless. Fleur used a dainty hand to ruffle Harry's mop of hair. He twitched out of her reach with a small blush. "Zis is a traveesty!" She sniffed "We can't allow zis!"

"No, Ve can't" Victor agreed, crossing his arms heavily. The two foreign teens turned to Cedric. But Harry dodged Fleur still reaching hands to confront them. "What do you mean you 'can't allow it'? you heard them! I don't have a choice in it. Why do you care?"

Cedric pushed himself in front of Harry, placing both hands on his boney shoulders. "Harry, we chose this. We chose to compete. We are all adults who knew the risks we were taking and decided it was worth it. We knew what we were getting into when we put our names in the Goblet. You didn't make that choice. You didn't have a choice. You're a child, I know you don't want to admit it, but you are. We have three years more experience than you. We can't just let you dive blind in this. We are going to help you through this okay? I promise."

The Hufflepuff Prefect turned to the two other teens. "This event just got a whole lot harder, I hope you both know that. Not only are we competing against each other, but we are also protecting Harry from whatever tasks we face. Agreed?"

"Oui, 'e iz nearly Gabrielle's age! I would never not 'elp!" Fleur decreed fervently. Her blue eyes glistening.

"Da. He is only a boy. Dis is a man's game, not a boys." Victor crossed his thick arms looking stern. Fleur sniffed at his comment but didn't do more than raise a well sculpted brow.

They parted ways then. Victor escorted Fleur to her schools enchanted carriage and then made his way down to his ship. Cedric and Harry began walking down the corridors together. "I'll walk you to Gryffindor tower, then I'll head back."

"But your dorm is closer. Don't bother going out of your way."

"It's fine Harry. I'm a prefect, so it's no big deal if I get caught out of bounds. You however, have enough on your plate without Filch after you too."

"Oh, okay then. Thanks." Harry looked surprised at the gesture. Cedric got the feeling that despite or maybe because of his fame, Harry wasn't shown that much kindness. Cedric let Harry file in his dorms portal opening and made his way back down to the Hufflepuff dorms.

The Hufflepuff common room was thumping with loud cheers and free flowing butterbeer. Cedric tried to come in quietly, tired from that evening's debacle, but he was quickly swept up by his housemates.

"Ced! Can you believe it!?" Nickolas Colby cheered his pudgy cheeks flushed with excitement. "A Hufflepuff champion!" he pushed a mug of butterbeer into Cedric's hand. "Uh, thanks Colby."

"I can't believe that Prat Potter snuck his name in the Goblet." The normally shrill voice of Jessie Ash seemed even more piercing with her indignation.

"He didn't sneak his name in." Cedric tried telling her, but she sniff and pranced away from him.

Colby shook his head. "Ced, man I know you're nice. But we all know that kid totally snuck his name in. I mean, everyone wanted to be chosen. And Potter couldn't handle not being in the limelight. I mean, this is a once in a life time chance for fame and glory. Who wouldn't pass it up?"

"Someone already famous?" Cedric deadpanned. Colby flushed a bit at his tone but held his point. By this time the entire common room had quieted down, eager to hear the latest batch of Potter Drama.

Colby blustered "Well he could be doing it for the reward! All that gold is a pretty good incentive!"

"He's the Heir to both House Potter and House Black, Colby. And House Black is one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, remember? His godfather named him Heir before he went on the run. It was a big deal in the Ministry. A lot of huff on whether a fugitive or convicted prisoner can declare an Heir apparent. But he did, and now Potter has more gold in his vaults than he could ever spend in his lifetime, and more status than he knows how to deal with." Marcus Collinsworth, a fifth year pureblood scoffed.

Cedric gave Collinsworth a grateful glance before looking beseechingly at his friend. "He was terrified, Colby. He didn't put his name in. He was so scared. Professor Moody thinks that someone put his name in so that he would die in the tournament. Someone's trying to kill him."

"Whoa. Really? Who would want to kill Potter?" Jessie sneered skeptically.

"Really, Ash? You can't think of anyone who would want to kill Harry Potter. Death Eaters tend to come to my mind." Cedric growled, taking a petty joy in Jessie's embarrassment.

"But…but he's just a kid." Colby gaped. "The headmaster wouldn't allow it. He-"

Collinworth's scoffed again. "Like he wouldn't hire a defense teacher being possessed by a shade, or allow a basilisk to roam the plumbing, or let Dementors onto school grounds? Face, it Colby, this isn't the first time the headmaster let Potter roll the dice on fate." The dark-haired boy looked scornful. Colby's pudgy cheeks went pale. And many older students looked grim. The younger years were ushered to their rooms. The upper years all sat quietly in the Hufflepuff den, each face more solemn than the last.

"But, he's just a fourth year." Colby whimpered.

"Yeah, and he was a first year when Quirrell tried to kill him, and a second year when he was almost eaten by a Basilisk, and a third year when his soul was nearly sucked out at a Quidditch game. Potter is literally a karmic punching bag. And I don't see Dumbledore stopping it now, any more than he has in the past." Cedric was astounded by Collinworths vitriol. He knew the Collinworth's traditionally went to Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but he thought Marcus was a bit softer than his older siblings because he was a Puff; It seemed not. His words were just as biting as any of his brothers or sister. But that wasn't important now.

Cedric stood tall in the middle of the den. Raising his voice to make sure everyone (even the eavesdropping younger years) could hear him. "Harry Potter did not put his name in the Goblet of Fire. But he's being forced to fight in a tournament he didn't want to be in. He's scared and with good reason too. He's fourteen, he is in no way prepared to compete in this type of game. If left to fight alone he will probably die. I promise everyone, I will compete my hardest. And I will do my best to win the Tournament. But I will also do my best to keep Harry safe. Someone is trying to hurt one of my friends. I won't allow it. As a Hogwarts student, as a man, and as a Hufflepuff; I can't. Will any of you help me? Not only to work hard to bring Hogwarts victory in this tournament, but also to show loyalty to a friend?"

The den was quiet. Everyone was watching him silently. For a long moment Cedric was worried that no one would stand. That he'd be on his own, protecting Harry.

Then Collinworths stood up. "Potter has had enough crap in his life. Like hell I'm going to be the dick who adds on to it. You got my wand, Diggory." He gave a traditional vow of solidarity.

Colby stood "He's just a kid. There's no way he can do this without help. You have my wand, Cedric."

Again and again, more and more upper years stood and gave their wands to Cedric's cause. He felt his eyes prickle a bit, his smile began to ache but he couldn't stop smiling.

Jessie Ash was the last to stand. She looked stern and strong. "I don't really know the kid, but he's your friend Cedric. And a friend to one Hufflepuff is a friend to us all. You have my wand."

"Thanks guys." Cedric was awed by the greatness of his house. Every Hufflepuff fourth year up, agreed to help him. He was humbled by their friendship.

Then Justin Finch-Fletchey came into the den, followed by the younger years nervously behind him. "Harry saved me from the snake in dueling club. I didn't understand it then and I treated him something awful for weeks. Then he went out of his way to fight the Basilisk to save everyone, even though he didn't have to. I owe Harry. I-I I want to be his friend. I can't do that if he dies in the tournament. You have my wand Cedric." The younger years followed with their own vows of solidarity.

The entire House stood together, united. To know that he had the support of his house, Cedric didn't bother to hide the wetness on his cheeks, if this wasn't a moment to cry then he didn't know what was.


	2. Chapter 2

Champions United 2

Victor met his headmaster at the end of the deck ramp. His silver beard was ruffled from aggressively running his fingers through it. Karkaroff sniffed as Victor approached. "Come, you need rest." He demanded.

The seeker sullenly followed Karkaroff back onto the ship. The rickety ramp creaked under their boots. "Dumbledore is a hypocrite. Favoring his own students so blatantly." Karkaroff grumbled lowly in his native tongue as he climbed up the deck to his cabin.

Victor waited until the heavy wooden door slammed closed before he began making his way down to the galley.

His fellow students were celebrating with thick mugs of foamy butterbeer and small desserts and foodstuffs they had snuck into their pockets at dinner. A radio played a celebratory song softly in the background.

"Victor! Come join us!" Peytr Malkovich called from the side table. His strong chin was creased with a bold grin. A splash of butterbeer sloshed over the rim of his mug.

Nearby Gregor - a overly muscled young man with thin blonde hair and narrow green eyes- began posing in ridiculous ways. "Obviously you would be our champion! No one better to show these French Flowers and English Roses that Durmstang has the most manly of men!" His supposed mug of butterbeer was smoking suspiciously, along with his red ears. Victor rolled his eyes, of course Gregor would find a way to sneak firewhiskey on the ship.

"Is it true?" Pasha pushed his way through the gaggle of celebrates. His English much clearer than Victors. The thin man was the youngest student on the trip, turning seventeen just three days before the champion choosing.

Gregor pushed his way through to stand alongside the slimmer man. He collapsed against Victor, humming a drinking song under his breath, grabbing Victors' waist to stay on his feet.

"Vhat?" Victor turned to him, trying to push Gregors drunken hands from his face. "Gregor, go to bed. Pasha, Vhat did you say?"

"That boy? Pottr? Is he really a champion too?"

"Yes."

"Da English are cheats!" Gregor roared drunkenly. Victor shoved the larger boy to the floor swiping his hand to wipe away the spittle Gregor left on his cheek. The rest of the students cheered in mutual agreement.

" _NO. Listen to me, all of you!"_ Victor fell back to his native tongue. He knew his English was terrible and there was no room for misunderstandings now. He stood on top of the table balancing against the uneasy rocking of the ship.

" _Harry Potter is a boy. He has no place in a contest for men."_ Victor announced. His fellows cheered in agreement. Some faced nodded determinedly, some frowned, some began flexing their muscles. It was obvious that the entire ship was ready to explode at the injustice they perceive to be adamant in the tournament. Victor felt the tension escalate. It was suffocating. The whole ship could explode in the riot if he wasn't careful.

" _But he did not volunteer for this. Someone did it for him."_ The room quieted. Confusion marred his fellows faces.

" _Someone-an adult-intends to use this competition to kill a fourteen-year-old boy."_ Victor made eye-contact with his fellow students. Mugs of drink were slowly lowered, faces were grim.

" _But as an adult, I will not allow a child to be murdered in front of me, even by proxy. This Tournament is to promote international cooperation. I have agreed with the other Champions to protect this boy. We will compete against one another, facing in a fair competition. But the three of us will also be shielding Harry from the trials. I understand that this makes the contest more difficult and dangerous, but I don't care. This game is no game for children. This is a contest for adults. I have chosen to stand in defense of this boy. I ask you now, my fellows. What will you do?"_

Victor stood firmly on the swaying table, staring down his fellow students. Gregor's flushed cheeks were fading from their rosy hue, Pasha looked like he was going to be physically ill, a few others looked equally distraught.

"Victor, how old is this boy?" Gregor slurred, trying to blink his drunkenness away. It was a redundant question, everyone knew how old Harry Potter was.

"Fourteen." Victor could practically feel the tension in the room skyrocket.

"Мой Бог." Gregor swore furiously, his drink dropping to the floor. the rest of the men looked no better.

"He's a babe." Pasha hissed unhappily.

" _Yes, he is. I ask again, what will you do?" Victor made his voice harder, harsher._

Gregor slammed his fist on the table. _"We will fight! I am no coward! I will stand by you. Take my Wand arm!"_ Gregor stood ahead of the entire group, his wand arm raised toward Victor.

Pasha came next. He was quiet, simply raising his arm and said, _"Take my Wand arm."_

The rest of the Durmstang men followed suit. Until the entire galley was filled with raised arms, Victor Krum standing above his peers. And entire army of men ready to rise to defense of the unwanted champion.

 **Obviously, this is the Durmstang part of my Champions United series. Beauxbatons and Fleur is next. Stay tuned.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, sorry about the wait on this chapter. I've been really excited for this chapter! Please enjoy!**

Fleur forced herself to walk calmly toward her schools' carriage. The bright moonlight made the foreign schools lawn glimmer with dew from the chilly night. The area around her was quiet. The castle looming behind her was dark and silent. The eerie stillness made her soft breathing seem enormously garish and loud.

The blonde forced herself to take a deep breath. It didn't come in smooth as she intended. The air shuddered and wheezed past her throat. A fierce hiccup shattered the quiet. With that imbalance of breath, Fleur began to cry.

She was horrified, terrified at the insurmountable challenge that lay before her. She was scared of the tournament and what that would entail of course but it was more than that. She was scared for Harry Potter.

He was not what she had expected. This Harry Potter was just a boy. She knew his story. Of course, she did. There was not a magical child that did not grow up with the story of that fateful Hallows eve night. Did not have a copy of "Great Magical Marvels" that featured him. Did not ask their parents to tale the tale of the child who destroyed the greatest evil when he was just a babe. Everyone know how strong he was, how brave, how magically powerful. He was a hero. A symbol. A mystical being in a faraway land ready to do away with any evil that threatens the world. At least that's what he was before she came here. Before she met him.

Now all Fleur could think of was how small he was. Even at fourteen he was tiny. How slight and gangly his arms were; Like little noodles. How pitifully knobby his knees were beneath his uniform pants. (how did he even walk with such skinny legs?) She couldn't remove herself from the memory of how forcefully he trembled under her hand while he was sick. How he stuttered and shook while the adults around him blamed him for being a champion. How surprised he was when the other champions agreed to defend him. It shattered her perception of the boy. He wasn't a hero like in her mama's tales. He was a child. A small unprepared child thrown into a lion's pit to die.

Fleur struggled to get air past her wet hiccups. She thought of how small Harry was. He was only a bit taller that Gabrielle. Her little sister was always so bright and cheerful. A sweet little daisy of a child. Gabrielle always bragged about how she and the famous hero Harry Potter had the same birthday. And she even had mama make a birthday tea cake for the boy who lived. A bright little cake that sat cheerfully alongside her own larger cake every year. It was a cute childish thing, but now the thought made Fleur dizzy with distress.

She was picturing little Gabrielle in Harry's place. What if Gabrielle was the hero from children's fairytale? What if she was the target of dark men's intentions? What if she was the unwanted champion thrown into a contest she couldn't prepare for?

A slip of bile made Fleur swallow hard. She forced deep hearty breaths into her lungs. She refused to disgrace herself out here in the open. But she couldn't go inside allow her peers to see her tear ruined face. Unbiddenly she began to recall the many nights when her mama would recite the tale of Harry Potter and his Triumph over You-Know-Who.

" _It happened on a dark Halloween night. In a small village known as Godrics Hallow, there lived a small family of the wizarding kind. An Auror, his wife, and their year-old son Harry lived in this sleepy village. But no one knew about them. They lived in hiding, ever fearful of a wizard of the darkest abilities that hunted them. A wizard so evil, his very name is feared to be spoken. He is the Dark Lord or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Auror and his wife had struggled against the wizard and his followers for years and despite his best efforts, they survived all of their encounters with his Death Eaters._

 _But on this night he had come himself to deal with the family. He was given their secret hideaway by a trusted friend and it was on this night that he chose to face the Potter Family. Their protections fell beneath his wand like spider silk. The Potters felt his darkness invade their homes and rushed to flee him. But their Floo was blocked by his followers and his magic prevented them from using Apperation to escape._

 _As the mother and son fled to the upstairs the father blocked the staircase from the Dark Lord. Auror Potter boldly faced the monster invading his home. But he was bereft of his wand. He was swiftly outmatched and fell before Him with a flash of green. He-who-must-not-be-named moved on._

 _His mother raced into the nursery, desperate to protect her precious child. She blocked the doorway with a rocking chair, a dresser, and a table, but it was not enough. The Villain forced his way in. His mother blocked the villains way. She launched herself at the dark wizard to keep him from her son. But it was for naught. The dark wizard waved his wand. And his mother fell._

 _You-know-who finally turned his wand to his final target. A green-eyed babe still in his crib. Harry Potter. The dark wizard waved his wand and a flash a green escaped. But instead of Harry falling before the wizard as his parents did, the spell flew back toward it's castor and fell over the dark wizard cleansing him from our world. The end"_

Fleur felt more tears trail her cheeks. She never paid to much attention to the beginning. It was always the climax that held her heart, she was an impatient child. She wanted the villain to be defeated, for the hero to go off to celebrate, to get to the happy ending sooner rather than later. But now her mind lingered in the tale. Questioning it in a way she had never had cause to before.

" _His father boldly faced the monster invading his home. He was bereft of his wand. He was outmatched and fell before Him with a flash of green. He-who-must-not-be-named moved on."_

His father died. Protecting his family. Fleur never bothered thinking of that before. She never paid attention. She couldn't even recall his name. John? James? Jasper, maybe? Something with a J that much she was sure, but beyond that she wasn't positive. She felt terrible. This brave man stood toe to toe with a monster of a villain to protect his wife and child, and she couldn't have been bothered to remember his name.

" _His mother raced into the nursery, desperate to protect her precious child. She blocked the doorway with a rocking chair, a dresser, and a table, but it was not enough. The Villain forced his way in."_

How terrified that woman must have been. Did she know that her husband was dead or did she believe that he could have forced You-know-who away? Was she crying? Fleur knew that she would have been if it had been her. Did she try to call for help? Was Harry crying? Did she comfort her child knowing You-know-who was coming for them?

" _His mother blocked the villains way. She launched herself at the dark wizard to keep him from her son. But it was for naught. The dark wizard waved his wand. And his mother fell."_

She died for her son. Fleur felt a flare of blinding respect for that mother and a deep sadness. She wondered what her last words were. Were they pleas for mercy, a condemnation, a curse? Were her last words ones of love to her child? Nobody would ever know. For the only one alive to recount them was too young to remember. Lily. Fleur suddenly hiccupped the name aloud letting out an unattractive wheeze that echoed over the lawn. Harry's mother's name was Lily Potter. Lily Potter died for her son.

Fleur let her mind trail over the last of the story.

" _You-know-who finally turned his wand to his final target. A green-eyed babe still in his crib. Harry Potter. The dark wizard waved his wand and a flash a green escaped. But instead of Harry falling before the wizard as his parents did, the spell flew back toward it's castor and fell over the dark wizard cleansing him from our world. The end"_

Fleur swallowed hard. She didn't want to picture it but her mind put little Gabrielle in Harry's place. A small blue eyed babe gazing up at the darkest wizard in living memory. Her little silly sister, who loved to dance outside barefoot in the rain (even though she caught a cold everytime), tried to sing along with the birdsongs in the garden, and tried to bake dandelions into cakes so she could eat wishes. Her sweet innocent little sister could have easily fell into Harry's place had the timing been right. And that broke her heart.

Fleur promised that she would never again look at Harry as anything more than what he was. A fourteen year old boy that was way over his head. A child that was the target of a nefarious plot. With her newfound determination, Fleur furiously scrubbed at the residue her tears left behind. With a quick charm, her puffy red eyes were back to normal even if her lashes had a faint maroon coloring because of it. She couldn't allow her classmates to see her looking so miserable when she should be joyous.

The blonde champion took a deep breath and pulled the carriage door open. She climbed up the dainty steps into the coach's elegant foyer. Powdered blue furniture was accented with blinding gold made for a crowded entrance. The foyer was empty when she entered, but soft music and light laughter filtered in from the nearby lounge. With one quick glance into a nearby mirror to check her appearance, she followed the music to be met with a gathering of all her housemates gaily toasting to her be chosen. As Fleur stepped into the lounge, eyes immediately caught her. her peers cheered gaily for her.

"Fleur, come join us. this iz your party after all!" her friend Amelie called out to her from the refreshment table. Her accent was made softer by the giggles she let out. The petite brunette flounced up to her with twin glasses of Gigglewater in hand. "We are all celebrating your victory!" she smiled as she handed Fleur a drink.

"No victory yet," Fleur idly deflected, sipping the bubbly drink. "merely being chosen does not gurentee success. Wher' is Gabrielle?"

"In bed with zhe rest of the ducklings, don't worry. We all have faith in you. They couldn't have chosen better." Amelie giggled as she sipped at her glass. Golden bubbles fizzed in the drink letting out soft giggles as they popped. A cheerful blush bloomed across her freckled cheeks though it was hard to see with her dark complexion.

"I assume that Madam Maxime does not know about thiz?" Fleur gestured to the gathering around her.

Julien Monroe scoffed from his seat on the chaise, rolling his hooded eyes. "Of course not Cheree, we are not amaturs. Besides, she went straight to bed in a fury over whatever happened after the choosing. We stood far out of her way." He finished with a smooth drawl.

Amelie giggled at Fleur. "Is it true then?"

"Iz what true?" Fleur smoothly asked as she sipped her drink. The bubbles fizzed down her throat and churned uncomfortably in her stomach. Dispite the giggles she let out, she gestured and had her drink switched for some sparkling water.

Amelie tapped her foot impatiently as Fleur deflected her question. "Do not be coy mon ami, The Boy Who Lived! Iz he really competing?"

Fleur grimaced at the title. "'is name is 'Arry, Amelie. And yes 'e will be competing."

Julien flipped his fashioned coft bangs to the side. "It is no wonder the Madam was so furious. Dumbledore allowing another champion to compete is a complete overhaul of the rules."

"'E did not 'ave a choice. 'Arry was entered under a different school. Zhe poor boy did not even know 'e was entered in." Fleur defended him.

Julien suddenly sat up from his lounging position. "Someone nominated him?" his dark amber eyes became hollow and fierce, flashing unnaturally in the candle light. Idly Fleur remembered that the Monroe family has always been suspected of having creature blood, and not of the legal variety like the Delacours and their Veela relatives.

"Without 'is consent?" Amelie gasped. The rest of the party went quiet, flutes of champagne and gigglewater were set down on nearby tables.

"Consent doesn't matter. Harry Potter is fourteen and legally still a child. He could not consent to the nomination. Not unless his magical guardian agreed to it." Julien cuts across Amelie. Showing everyone that his father's law practice left its mark on him.

"Zhey believe that it was a Death Eater. Zhey are thinking that 'e was entered into the tournament knowing zat it would kill 'im." Fleur let her voice wobble just a tad. To push the rest of her peers to see Harry as a victim and not as a champion as she did.

"What about his headmaster," Julien gruffed, his throat sounded rough and tight. "his government? Are they just allowing this?"

"Zhey are not only allowing zhis, they are forcing him to participate!" Fleur turned to Julien eager to have a sympathetic ear. She could tell that the rest of her classmates are coming around to her line of thinking, with most nodding and a few girls wiping minute tears away.

"Zhat poor boy," Amelie padded her cheeks, trying to remove a few escaped tears without damaging her makeup. "We must keep him safe!"

"Zhe other champions and I 'ave all agreed to protect 'im from zhe trials. We will fight against one another fairly but shield him." Fleur revealed.

Julien scoffed. "Well the officials did want magical international cooperation. But I imagine this is not what they had in mind."

"Non. But never ze less I will not be ze champion to abandon a babe to the wolves."

Amelie sniffed, her flushed cheeks from before faded with the dour conversation. "'is government will really do nothing? They would just let 'im die?"

"The English are not known for being humanitarian. I'm not surprised." Julien hissed at her and stood from his seat. "But I am no Englishman. I am French! And the French do not abandon children to the cold. I will do whatever is in my power to help you, Mademoiselle Delacour." He boldly turned to Fleur and with a dramatic flourish is presented his wand to her. _"My wand will serve."_ He declared in French.

Amelie jumped to be next. _"I could never not help. My wand will serve."_

One after another each of her schoolmates came forward to present their wands and give their oath of fellowship. The party of revelry had shifted into an army of Frenchmen, ready to defend the defenseless.

" _Thank you."_ Fleur smiled at them beautifully glittering tears in her eyes. _"Thank you everyone so much."_

The party slowly dwindled after that, a few girls left and went to the bedrooms to tell the few others who were sleeping what had happened. Others drifted off to their own beds for the night. soon it was just Julien, Amelie, and Fleur left in the lounge. The three sat quietly, listening to the soft laughter coming off the left behind gigglewater. Suddenly Fleur's head perked up.

"Who iz 'Arry's magical guardian?" Fleur wondered aloud. "'is parents are gone."

Amelie's perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure. I know zhat 'e lives with 'is muggle family but zhey wouldn't 'ave any say in what 'appens in magical law." The two girls turned to Julien, his father's law background gave him a more precise idea of what is going on.

"I'm not sure how the English do it, but it would fall to the closest magical relative in France. I will write to my father. At the very least we can make sure that there are no loopholes we can't exploit to get Harry out of the competition. If his magical guardian hasn't agreed to his competing than I think he can be excused."

Fleur nodded. "Please do so." She gracefully stood and brushed some non existant dirt off her skirt. "We should go to bed. We have a lot to do tomorrow." The trio quietly left the lounge.

"Agreed. Fair dreams mademoiselles." Julien gave the two a noble looking nod and with barely a swish of his robe, disappeared into his chambers.

" _Good night my friend. Dream well."_ Amelie flounced off in the direction of her suite up the stairs.

Fleur lingered in the hallway for a moment before making her way into a nearby suite. The hallway light illuminated the bedroom within. A small figure was curled up against the headboard. Snuggled against the pillows like a little bird in a nest. A fair soft haired head was visible under the covers. Fleur sneakily crept closer to the bed. Little Gabrielle. Her little sister. Fleur sat as softly as she could and kissed her goodnight on her forehead. There she lingered and felt a sickening sense of shame rise up in her chest.

"Je me suis trompe" Fleur whispered to her sleeping sister. "J'avais tort. J'étais perdu dans un monde de rêve, à la recherche de héros. Je n'ai pas vu un enfant comme vous. Je le fais maintenant. Aidez-moi à être fort pour vous tous les deux."

Gabrielle sleepily roused "soeur?"

"Oui, retourne à dormir" Fleur shushed her sister. Gabrielle swiftly dropped back into dreamland. Fleur sat there for a while longer, thinking of tomorrow and what it would bring.

 **And there you have it. admittedly my French dialogue is just me abusing google translate so please be gentle. And don't forget to leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Super duper short chapter today. But look forward to an extra long one really soon! I needed a good pickup today. My car is breaking down, my routine root canal turned into a massive upper gum, facial muscular infection. My cheek, gum, and part of my eye all swelled on the right side of my face. So bad I'm on heavy painkillers and really hardcore antibiotics. And I hate my science professor for all the extra work he's given the class. So, I really needed a pick me up. Leave a review!**

Harry was slow dressing for breakfast. He was already dreading the rest of the day. Gryffindor tower was loud and celebratory all night. everyone was celebrating except their champion. To Harry, last night was a nightmare.

 _Harry managed to quietly enter and skirt most of the party, it wasn't until he got to his dorm that he was confronted._

" _Why didn't you tell me?" Ron demanded angrily. "I would have kept quiet."_

" _Ron, I didn't put my name in." Harry said mouth twisted into a frown, unhappy that even his best friend would believe this._

" _Come off it Harry, everyone knows you did. Just tell me how."_

" _I didn't think you were everyone Ron. I didn't do it."_

 _Ron's ears flushed pink. "Bloody Hell, you just can't stand not being the center of attention can you Potter?"_

 _Harry jerked back. Ron hissed his name with the same derision that he usually reserved for Malfoy. It hurt more than an insult or curse word could._

" _Go to bed Ron. I don't want to deal with this." Harry suddenly felt tired. So tired. He felt empty and sad and drained. Harry just wanted to climb into bed and not wake up until this was all over._

 _He ignored Ron's grumbling words of lying and act trusting him. Still in his uniform, Harry climbed into bed and shut the heavy curtains around his bed. The silencing spell he flicked at the hangings cut off any and all noise from the outside. Ron's voice, the party music, the cheering of his housemates were all quiet. For a moment Harry could imagine that he was back under the stairs of Privat Drive. Vernon and Dudley couldn't fit inside with him and Petunia was too afraid of the spiders. Nobody bothered him in the cupboard. He could relax in here. He could sleep._

The next morning was quiet. Harry just wanted to stay curled up under the heavy covers. The silencing spell wore off sometime in the night. He could hear Ron's loud snoring rattle off the rafters above them, Nevilles window had a broken pane that was whistling.

Harry was already dreading the rest of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**I told you that this chapter will be coming soon! To be honest a good chuck of this was written while I was floating on pain pills. I tried to edit it, but if something trails off into lala land, oops.**

Harry lingered at the entrance of the Great Hall. He didn't know where to sit. Ron was squished between Dean and Seamus and Hermione was no where to be seen. Most likely she was held up in the library. He didn't really sit with anybody else so he wasn't sure what to do.

Suddenly a hand landed heavily on his shoulder a sixth year Hufflepuff leaned over him. "Potter, you're sitting with us today." He stated calmly like it was already a forgone conclusion.

The boys' skin was pale and stretched over high tilted cheekbones and his dark hair was tightly tied in a low ponytail and slicked off his face with a large amount of musky smelling hair gel. He confidently steered harry over to the Hufflepuff table.

"Umm?" Harry blinked up at the taller boy.

"Cedric told us the truth, come on, we don't want that prat Colby to take all the bacon."

More than a few curious eyes followed the pair of them as they made their way further from the Gryffindor table and the drone of voices rose from the other tables. The thin Puff ignored the stares with a quiet confidence as he made a place for himself at the Hufflepuff table.

"Colby, if you ate all the bacon I'll toss you into the lake." He announced calmly sitting down and nudging harry to sit next to him. "You can piss off Collinsworth, I left you some." A blond freckled boy snapped back as they settled down.

"You eat so much pork, I wouldn't be surprised if you oinked when you laugh." Collinsworth(?) sneered. The other boy Colby made snorting noises at him as he shoved another slice of bacon in his mouth.

Harry stared at the byplay between the two with an awkward hesitance. A girl sitting next to him pushed a plate into this reach. "Want a peach, Potter? They're really good." Harry awkwardly plucked a fruit from the platter. "Uh, thank you?"

She cheerfully smiled at him with gleaming teeth. "No problem." The girl gave him a startling white smile. "My name is Jessica, call me Jesse, everybody does."

"If they're not calling her miss-trips-a lot." Collinsworth chuckled lowly at Harry. "Watch your toes, she wears heels but hasn't quite figured out how to walk in them."

"I heard that!" Jesse snapped leaning forward to glare across Harry at Collinsworth, who was sniggering.

"You were meant to." He smirked at her then swung his head back down to whisper at Harry. "It's like walking next to a horse; clip clop, clip clop."

Harry felt a bit dizzy. "Am I allowed to sit here? I'm a Gryffindor." He reminded them needlessly.

"There is nothing in the school rules against sitting at the other tables. Don't worry about that." Jesse smiled before leaning behind him to swat at Collinsworth who deflected with a piece of toast.

Cedric confidently strode into the Great Hall. He easily noticed Harry's red and gold tie surrounded by a swarm of yellow and black. He cheerily waved. "Harry! Good Morning! How are you?"

"Hey Cedric, I uh, I'm good." Harry nervously smiled.

"No, he's not. He's a liar." The pale Collinsworth next to him interjected.

"Huh?" Harry twitched looking nervously at the older boy before squirming as Collinsworths' long piano fingers pinched his side.

The young man scrunched his nose at him. "You're too skinny. I can feel your ribs. Even through a cloak, sweater, dress shirt, and maybe an undershirt. You need to eat. You're practically a stick, Potter. Here." He dropped a roll and scrapped more than a couple of hashers onto Harry's plate. "You represent one of the sacred 28, at least try to look the part."

"The what twenty-eight?"

"The sacred 28 are the oldest, richest, most noble of the Purebloods. The upper class of the upper class you can say. The twenty-eight influences nearly every aspect of the magical English community. Everything from social events, politics, education, public policy, national spending, and about a hundred other necessary parts of our society." Collinsworth scooped a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto Harry's plate. "Eat that. You need the protein."

Cedric smiled as he wiped his mouth. "But couldn't the same be said about every pureblood house, Collinsworth? Not just the Sacred 28?"

Collinsworth nodded. "You're right of course, but no house below the twenty-eight has the same level of influence as them. Our society is a class based one as we all know. There are varying levels of importance in everything, with the twenty-eight at the top."

"Is it really class based? What does that mean?" Harry asked. Collinsworth blinked in surprise and took a huge bite out of a waffle mumbling around the breakfast food. 'God save me.'

"Yes, it is. From the top is the twenty-eight, then the noble houses, the wealthy houses, and finally the lower houses which consist of muggleborns, half-bloods and purebloods not a part of any of the other classes."

"Really? That seems…unfair." Harry struggled to wrap his head around what he was being told. Nobody ever told him about a class system. It seems like something he should have been told.

Collinsworth shook his head. "It's traditional, the families with the most magical ability and longest history rule highest."

"So, everyone has to listen to the twenty eight?" Harry asked.

"Not quite, other noble pureblood families fall into tiers under the 28. They are often connected by alliances, marriage ties, or business deals. Lesser houses often are beholden to the upper families. They fall into the same political spheres, serve as allies, attendants, confidants, whatever the upper line decides works well. For example, you know how Crabbe and Goyle follow Malfoy around? Well, they are subsidiary houses to the Malfoy line." Collinsworth explained tidily, taking small sips of juice between sentences.

"What about everyone else? The ones who are not a part of the lesser houses?" Colby asked a smile creeping up on his lips.

"They tend to fall into independent spheres of political ties. A bit of a smaller scale of influence but they can appeal to have their interests represented by higher classed twenty-eight houses."

"And who are the twenty-eight houses?" Jesse pressed him. It was rare that Collinsworth let loose any of the pureblood decorum and tradition.

"Alphabetically they are Abbott, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Crouch, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Parkinson, Prewitt, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Slughorn, Travers, Weasleys, and Yaxley." Marcus rattle off in quick secession. "Of course, some lines have fallen in recent years."

Cedric made Colby scooch over as he asked, "Which lines have fallen?"

"Well, Flora and Hestia Carrow are in Slytherin but the only main branch Carrows left are both in Azkaban as are the remaining Lestranges, Yaxleys, Travers." Collinsworth used his glass to gesture at the twin third years sitting side by side at the Slytherin table.

" The only male Selwyn got sealed up in a cursed burial site in the Colonies before his trial so the line has to be carried by the female branch, tough luck on that, she's 185 and uglier than Professor Moody. The male Gaunts all died in Azkaban and the line officially died out over forty years ago. All those that could carry the name are gone. The Rowle female line is barren and the only male, Edwin is in Azkaban for trying to poison the Head of Saint Mungos six years ago. The Rosier line only has an eight-year-old remaining in its female line."

"The Weasley's and Prewitt are one in the same now since Molly Prewitt married into the Weasley line and the last two male Prewitts died in the war. Admittedly, one of her children could revive the name but the Weasleys' never really bothered with pureblood protocol so it's a nonissue." He gestured again, this time to the Gryffindor table and the gaggle of red heads scattered throughout.

"So, the sacred twenty-eight is really the sacred 19?" Cedric teased. "Carrow, Lestrange, Yaxley, Travers, Selwyn, Gaunt, Rowle, and Rosier are all but done."

"If so many aren't there anymore, are they really that important?" Harry wondered aloud, all the loyalty stuff sounded a lot like house elves to him.

"Yes, of course they are! Even more so now than ever! The remaining houses have less competition politically and a historically high influence on our society nowadays." Collinsworth hissed.

"What does this have to do with me? Potter isn't one of the twenty-eight, right?" Harry flicked his hair out of his eyes.

"No, The Potter's while traditionally a noble house they are not Sacred, incidentally they traditionally would be considered a cadet house under the Longbottom sphere of influence." Collinsworth waited while Harry twisted his head to look for Neville before continuing. "But, the Blacks are a part of the twenty-eight. Your Godfather revived the 'missing heir' clause and named the Potter line; I.E. you as the holder of the Black estates and his heir apparent."

"He did?" Harry was touched. Even on the run Sirius wanted him to be his family. He made a mental note to send him a owl later.

"Yes, you have Black blood because your paternal grandmother Dorea, was a Black. So, you have enough of the Black blood to qualify and that means you are now the leader of the Black family line and in control of the Black sphere of influence." Collinsworth pressed. "They have a seat in the Wizengamont, are the primary shareholders in Saint Mungos, and are listed as standing place Governors on the Hogwarts schoolboard."

"Like Malfoy's dad?"

"No, the seat is one in the same. The Malfoys are currently holding the seat because Narcissa Malfoy was the only accepted living Black. Sirius black was in jail, as was Bellatrix Lestrange. Andromonda Tonks nee Black was stricken off the Black family tree over twenty years ago."

"Wait so Malfoy is only in charge of the schoolboard because of who his wife is related to?" Harry balked, Malfoy acted like he owned the school because his dad was board governor, but it was only because of his mom? He was more of a spiteful prat than he thought.

"So long as she is the only Black recognized fully by the Ministry records." Collinsworth said with meaning, raising a thick eyebrow at the table.

"But she's not. Not now, with Harry as Heir apparent." Cedric said slowly with realization.

"He isn't of age to take on the position himself of course, what with him being a minor and a student. But he can name a regent until he comes of age. An adult he trusts to have the best interests of the school in mind." Collinsworth revealed "Perhaps a trusted former teacher?" he slyly nudged.

"Remus." Harry breathed happily. He would be a much better governor than Malfoy!

"He's a werewolf!" Jesse hissed quietly, biting her lip when Collinsworth clicked his teeth at her. "After the scandal last year, there's no way they'll allow a werewolf on the staff."

"The ones who decide the staff are the board of governors." Collinsworth reminded them airily, "If one of the board members is a werewolf then it's a non-issue. They'd have to go to the ministry, to the Wizengamont. But that won't help them. It'll be put to a vote and odds are it'll pass." He took a big bite of his omelet before continuing.

"The Abbots have always been against registering werewolves as dark creatures. Mostly because their last head supposedly fell in love with one named April Aspen. That was before she was killed by Greyback in the last war." Collinsworth nodded at Hannah Abbot halfway down the table. The blonde girl was laughing at something her friends had said.

"The Shaklebolts head, Kingsley, was good friends with Professor Lupin for years. There's no way he wouldn't support him as governor. The Weasley/Prewitt line is a clear win. Author Weasley has always been a progressive man.

"The Macmillians are a touch more conservative but they usually side with the Abbots, if the Abbots support the nomination so will they." Collinsworth idly used his fork to gesture at Ernie Macmillian at the far end of the table. The mousey haired boy was gnawing on a piece of fruit while scowling at his History of Magic textbook.

"The Longbottoms are a traditionalist family." Collinsworth nodded at the Gryffindor table. Neville was just sitting down next to Susan Bones. "Augusta Longbottom is the current head until her grandson comes of age. She lost her son and daughter in law in the last war. Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black was responsible, so Augusta might not be as accommodating if the Black family is pushing the nomination, but she is a reasonable woman. If you can convince her that a former teacher who just happens to have Lycanthropy is better suited than a career politician like Lucius Malfoy, she'll fight tooth and nail for the nomination to pass." Collinsworth warned the group.

Harry felt a bit light headed with all the information being delivered but he focused, if he could do this right, Remus would never have to worry about work again, and Malfoy wouldn't be in charge of the school!

"No hard sell there." Cedric remarked drily. "Lucius Malfoy has been suspected of being a Death Eater and for years the other governors have complained of him abusing his position, the only reason it hasn't been revoked yet is because he is technically only a provisionary governor under the Black family seat. And there were no other 'Blacks' to take the position. Any other nominee would be better."

"Quite." Collinsworth smirked after snagging a bite of toast. "As I was saying, The Ollivanders don't even bother to vote anymore, they just swing with the majority favor. the Shafiq are a light family as are the Fawley's, they'll swing whatever way inconveniences the Malfoy's.

"According for rumor, the Shafiq's lost their former head because of a death eater attack, and they've always suspected it was Lucius, though there was no official proof. And the Fawley's have a six generation long feud with the Malfoy line. Both houses will vote yes, they won't care if a werewolf is governor, so long as a Malfoy is not. And the rest of the majority are disgraced because they fell on the losing side of the last war, no way they'd risk stirring the pot now.

"The Black sphere of influence has always been large because of it's ancient status and financial power, add Potter's personal status as world hero and Bam! Werewolf governor approval." Collinsworth laid out the situation neatly, all with the air of a supervillain in one of Dudley's old comic books laying out his evil scheme.

The group was quiet for a few moments. Eyes wide and jaws dropped. Harry felt his head spinning with all the political knowhow Collinsworth revealed.

"How in the hell are you not in Slytherin?" Colby exhaled in wonder. His blue eyes wide with shock.

"I didn't want to share a dorm with my brothers." Collinsworth shrugged scooping a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. "Plus, nobody nags about my table manners over here."

"Doesn't mean we don't notice. Close your mouth." Jesse complained tossing a napkin at him. "And why are you telling us all this? You're never this talkative at breakfast."

"Remember when I said lesser pureblood houses fall into the twenty-eight spheres of influence?" Collinsworth tilted his head down at Harry.

"Don't tell me; the Collinsworth's fall under the Blacks?" Cedric pieced together.

"Before, we'd have to align with Draco Malfoy, his mother was the last recognized Black. As distasteful as it is, it is traditional." He shrugged.

Colby smirked "But now Harry is the heir. I bet that's a bit easier to deal with."

"Quite; but Harry is only heir if he agrees on the position. It doesn't even have to be recorded, merely a verbal declaration to a cadet house member." Collinsworth looked significantly at Harry. "A recognized command, a request, or statement of hierarchy. Something simple."

Harry blinked and looked around at all the raised expectant eyebrows. Cedric nudged a plate of nearby eggs. "Um, Collinsworth, pass the eggs please."

He did so. "Call me Marcus." He smiled, getting up. "I'll go let my siblings know."

"Um. Okay. How many siblings do you have?"

Marcus turned back to him "In Hogwarts, four. In total, twelve."

"Twelve?!"

"My parents are very affectionate." He shrugged and sauntered off. He made his way discreetly over to the Ravenclaw table to speak to a dark haired girl with the same thin nose and cheekbones as him. They whispered for a few moments before the girl got up and Collinsworth made his way back to them.

"Marlowe will tell Matthew, Maddox, and Micah. She'll be discreet too."

"Discreet?" Harry asked.

"My brothers are all in Slytherin, best if they don't let Malfoy onto our scheme too early. If you want to nominate the professor, it has to be done before the current holders of the position can dig their feet in. their fall will be all the sweeter if they don't see it coming."

"You are a devious little man." Jesse breathed.

"I'll send an owl to my father later and get the wheels moving for your nomination. Sound good?" Marcus asked Harry.

"Um, okay, that sounds okay. What does he do?"

"He's an administrator of the records division. He'll handle all the paperwork. Likely he'll have my eldest brother Maximus handle the requests for meetings with the other family heads if it comes to it. You'll need to send an owl to our former professor. It's best if he's prepared before the politics come into it. If we act quickly, the Malfoy's will be out of office before the week is out."

Cedric smiled. "That's good. That means he could be governor before we have our first task." He nodded at Harry. "November 24, remember?"

Harry's mouth went dry, he had nearly forgotten about the tournament. "Uh, yeah."

Cedric reached over and firmly held Harry's wrist. "Don't worry Harry, we won't let anything happen to you. Now hurry up an eat some more, classes start in a few minutes."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.

 **Okay so really long chapter but no Viktor or Fleur but they will return. Along with the other students. There is going to be a shakeup in the social structure in a big way. I'm all geared up for it, but updates might slow down as my health is kinda roller-coaster right now. Leave a review please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, Welcome back. I'm feeling a lot better these days. I'm off the pain pills and back to work. Unfortunately I had to pay for the antibiotics and pain meds out of pocket so I'm pretty much broke for the next few months. This fic has been such a stress relief I can't imagine how freaked I'd be without it to distract me. So please enjoy this super long chapter! Leave a review when you go!**

The rest of the day was pretty much the same for Harry as lunch was. The Hufflepuff house formed a human shield around Harry. He was always in the middle of a large cheerfully talking group, no matter where he was. In the Hallways, the stairwells, a group of Hufflepuffs even tried following him into the lavatory before he put his foot down. They grinned and teased him about being shy around them before backing off. A few times Beaubaxions and Drumstrang students would come across the group and join in. Harry was a little confused about their behavior. The older Drumstrang boys would stand heavily behind him and ward off various groups of Hogwarts students from approaching him. One tall French brunette called Harry 'Mon Petite Caneton' for some strange reason. The rest of the French students started calling him that as well.

He was feeling a little overwhelmed by it all until Potions. Three friendly fifth year boys walked with him to class. Daniel Knights, Hunter Calhone, and Thomas Yost were all tall admittedly very muscular boys. Harry had a thought that they were Hufflepuff's version of Crabbe and Goyle. A very much larger and nicer version of them at least.

They stayed and visited while the class waited for Professor Snape. The three were very personal and friendly with the assorted Slytherins and Gryffindors around the dungeon door. Daniel was talking animatedly about a funny story about his brother's owl getting stuck in his aunt's wig when Malfoy and his cronies walked up.

"Potter, declared yourself king of Hufflepuff now? Stealing the championship wasn't enough?" he sneered.

Before Harry could take a breath to snap back, Hunter swung his head down. He loomed a good three feet over Malfoy's head and leaned over to put the blond in his shadow. He made a very big show of sniffing over the Malfoy's head. "You smell like Drama, Headaches, and greasy hair gel. Go away now."

Malfoy stared up at the much taller student. "I wasn't talking to you." He sneered, only looking a little intimidated by the larger Hufflepuff.

Thomas casually cracked his knuckles. "You'll have to forgive him." He gave him a winning smile as he nudged Hunter away from Malfoy's personal space a bit. "Hunter can't help himself from talking to cute girls."

A shocked squeak escaped Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other in comical confusion. "But," Crabbe slowly said. "We're not girls?"

Daniel snorted, "Are you asking or telling us?" he took a step closer to the group, right into Malfoy's way.

Malfoy tried to push himself closer to Harry as he glared up at Daniel. "How can you protect him? He stole Cedric's victory."

Hunter swooped aggressively closer, shoving his face right into Malfoy's, his expression so foul even Harry balked. "Don't you talk about what you don't understand you little shit." He hissed so quietly that the other students couldn't quite hear what he was saying. "You need to turn back around, prance off, and bother somebody with the patience to deal with your baby talk. I don't have time for temper tantrums."

Malfoy's face drained of color. "Potter is a filthy cheat!" He yelped out, leaning away from the surprisingly threatening Hufflepuff.

Thomas sighed, suddenly looking pityingly at him. "We understand Draco," He said loudly, gathering everyone's attention. "We really do."

"What?" Malfoy gaped

Thomas consolingly patted Malfoy's shoulders. "Your body is going through a lot of changes, your voice is cracking, your growing hair in strange places, and you're experiencing new and confusing feelings."

"What?!"

"This is perfectly normal. You're not strange, this happens to everyone." His voice shifted into something much like an older brother dispensing advice.

"What are you talking about?"

Thomas smiled, the very image of a personable and genial Hufflepuff. "Draco, struggling with puberty and dealing with your sexuality is no excuse to treat Harry badly. You're not gonna win his affection with this mean spirited teasing."

The crowd around the dungeon door began whispering, wide excited eyes drank in the unfolding drama. The three Hufflepuff's circled around Malfoy giving their backs to the crowd, keeping their voices light and friendly while their faces menaced the blond.

"Wait No! I'm not struggling with my s-sexuality." Malfoy squeaked looking paler and paler as the Hufflepuff's circling cut him off from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Now I just don't believe that Draco, don't be afraid, nobody here is judging you. There's nothing wrong with homosexuality. But these juvenile attempts to flirt need to stop." Hunter grinned, showing more teeth than polite.

"F-flirt!?" Malfoy tried to defend himself but the growing whispers of the surrounding crowd drowned him out.

Daniel jumped in, stalling Malfoy's stuttering. The crowd of fourth years hushed, eager to hear the next words out of the Hufflepuff. "We know, we know, being in different houses makes it difficult for you to spend time with him and teasing might seem like a good way to get his attention. After all bad attention is still attention. But you're a pureblood for goodness sake! You're telling me your mother never gave you a single lesson how to properly court someone?"

Malfoy's face was now cherry red. "She did but-"

"But nothing Draco! You're just going to throw out all her lessons because you're embarrassed? Draco it's okay to be confused; It's not okay to take out that confusion out on Harry."

"I'm not! He-"

Thomas interrupted him again. "It's not Harry's fault if you have a crush and can't handle it maturely."

The whispers of the crowd rose. A few girls began giggling. Malfoy's grey eyes darted over to the crowd, a blush surged in his cheeks.

"What is going on?" Professor Snape's voice cut through Malfoys' squeaking and the surrounding students whispering.

Daniel smoothly turned toward the professor as he answered, now keeping his face as genial as his voice. "Hello Professor, we had some questions about our Potion essays, we were wondering if you had some office hours open sometime this week?"

"Thursday 5pm." Snape was curt, dark eyes swept over the gaggle of students trying to decipher what was happening. But he sniffed and seemed to decide with wasn't worth the potential headache to bother finding out.

"Thank you, Professor." Thomas smiled politely, completely at ease with the standoffish teacher.

"Mister Malfoy seems to be in a bit of distress." Snape silkily said.

"Yes, well we may be the cause of that." Thomas admitted bashfully. "He was expressing his romantic feelings in an inappropriate manner toward a classmate."

"Has he?" Snape hissed softly

"Yes, we tried to defuse the situation but I'm afraid he took it as us attacking his sexual preference."

"Not to speak out of turn sir, but I don't think Draco is in the correct emotional clarity to handle dangerous potions today." Daniel said, looking honestly concerned.

"I'M NOT GAY!" Malfoy suddenly screamed. Even Snape jerked back at the sudden outburst.

"See what I mean? He's so aggressively in denial. I'm worried that despite his adamant affection, he could even be a threat to his crush." Hunter put a 'restraining' hand on Draco, as if he was about to fling himself at Harry.

"Perhaps he should go visit Madam Pomphrey and fetch a Calming Draught." Thomas said, brown eyes bright with concern

"Then perhaps you three would be so good as to escort him?" Snape dismissed them as he gave Malfoy a strange look before he swept passed them to unlock the classroom door.

Thomas grinned, laying a heavy hand on Draco's shoulders. "Happily, Professor, Come along Draco."' He, Daniel, and Hunter circled Draco more tightly and herded him away.

"Wait, I'm not gay, I'm not gay!" Malfoy's declarations faded as they disappeared down the hall.

Harry was shocked, he had never seen anything like that before.

The rest of class was spent with Snape looming over the students while the students giggled and whispered behind his back. Very little got done in that class.

After a long double period, they were finally released. The students exploded out of the dungeons eager to spread the news they had heard. Lunch was a mess. Rumors of what happen spread like wildfire.

Harry tried to stall the aggressive rumor mill by disappearing into the owlery. He liked spending some quiet time with Hedwig, he didn't even mind the abundance of owl droppings everywhere (okay he minded a little!). Harry still sat there, wrote, and sent off two letters.

One letter was to Remus, warning him about the nomination and what to expect in the coming days, Hedwig let him tie the letter to her leg giving him an affectionate nip on the ear. The other letter was to Sirius asking about the heir situation. Harry made sure to send that letter with a nondescript barn owl just incase anyone was following Hedwig. He watched to two owls disappear into the cloudy sky.

Then Harry reluctantly made his way down the stairs toward the Great Hall for lunch. While he was gone, the gossip of what had happened with Malfoy had spread. Not only that it had be told and retold and had been embellished so much; that by the time Harry sat down at the Hufflepuff table the sequence of supposed events were unrecognizable.

Draco had pushed Harry against the wall. Draco had tried forcing Harry to kiss him. He had attacked Thomas for 'outing him' about his sexuality. He tried attack Professor Snape. He screamed that he was gay. He screamed that he wasn't gay. He screamed that Harry had made him gay. He was denying that he was gay. He blamed Harry for making him gay.

Harry was bombarded with whispers and stares as he walked down the corridor to the Great Hall. That was nothing new, only now they weren't hostile, they were pitying.

"Poor Potter," A first year Ravenclaw whispered behind her hand, "I heard Malfoy tried to follow him into the loo once."

"I heard he had Crabbe and Goyle threaten him if Harry didn't go out with him." Another first year gossiped. Harry could easily hear the two girls but he kept his eyes forward and ignored them to the best of his ability. He walked passed them easily enough, but everybody else he passed was having the same kind of badly disguised conversations

"I heard that Malfoy tried to bribe a house elf into stealing Potter's clothes."

"Eww! Why would he do that? Malfoy is gross."

"Totally! Did you hear Madam Pomphrey had to sedate him?!"

"Really? I heard he had to be tied down."

"Yeah, apparently he was talking about attacking that Hufflepuff-Yost."

"Thomas Yost? But he's so nice!"

"I know! But he, Calhoun, and Knights stepped in to protect Potter from him earlier."

"So, Malfoy's mad because they wouldn't let him molest Potter?"

"He tried to molest Potter?! I never heard that."

"He had to have done something! Those three are really nice. I'm not surprised that they stepped in."

"Shh! There he is!"

Harry's ears were burning by the time he sat down. "Hello Harry." Marcus smiled around a sip of water. "I assume you had an…interesting Potions lesson?"

Harry squinted at the boy. A rise of suspicion made him look heavily at the older boy. "Did you…did you make that happen?"

Marcus smirked in an infuriatingly casual way. "Goodness no, I'm not that talented. Yost and the others did all that on their own. I will admit to helping a few of the more convenient rumors take root. Though the majority of the gossip mongering is Marlowe and Jesse's handiwork." He nodded to the tow girls happily gossiping with various girls from other houses.

"And people just believe them?" Harry was surprised. It was strange that the rumor mill was being used to his benefit instead of against him. He had never thought of it as anything but an irritant before.

Marcus chewed on a sandwich. "I've always found that people are eager to believe the worst of others," Marcus commented. "Besides this can only help us."

"How?" Harry wondered.

"Character assassination. The Malfoys have been allowed too much power for too long. Draco has long considered himself a sort of Prince of Hogwarts. It is past time for the delusion to end. In addition to that, we can use this to emphasize how out of control the Malfoys are. This will help us with the nomination."

Harry was quiet for a moment, giving Marcus a chance to load his plate with potatoes and carrots. "What do you mean by 'us'?"

The tall boy stopped chewing for a moment, obviously giving deep thought to his answer. "The Collinsworth are a cadet house. As I said before, we had to serve the Malfoys baring a true Black heir. But now that you've claimed the title we default to you obviously. However, if the Malfoys ever reclaim the position, they won't forget us switching loyalties. If the nomination falls through I have no doubt Lucius will petition to gain custody of you and will seek to punish us for our disloyalty to him."

The fourth year felt shocked. "Custody of me?"

"Yes, and we rather want to avoid that."

Harry felt a twinge of worry settle in his chest. "And you; your family could be hurt?"

"Not physically, no. But we could be disgraced and abandoned by our liege house. That's obviously not a good thing. We'd be politically and financially exposed to any larger house."

"So, what can I do?"

"Well, just don't die in Tournament for starters." Marcus quipped raising a thick eyebrow.

"Okay. I-I can do that." Harry blinked not completely sure if he could keep that promise. A slow awkward silence fell between them, only punctuated by Marcus' chewing. He was wondering how ruining Dracos reputation would help them win the nomination. He couldn't make those two things connect in his mind.

Marcus smiled at him like he could tell what he was thinking. "There is only one way to describe Hogwarts's rumor mill; It's a monster. A huge, ugly, unyielding monster. It will rise up and strike against anyone and everyone without question or hesitation. But the thing about monsters, Harry, is that you can either be afraid and ignore them or you can tame and train them to your benefit."

"I don't understand?" Harry felt his head swim. He could tell Marcus was gearing up for another lecture. He really liked hearing himself talk, didn't he? Not that what he said isn't interesting. Harry just wished he wouldn't be so long winded.

Marcus settled into his seat comfortably. "Harry, think about that Hippogriff Professor Hagrid had last year."

"Buckbeak?" Why did he want to talk about Buckbeak now? Weren't they just talking about rumors?

Marcus ignored the look Harry was giving him. He crossed his fingers together in front of his chin. "Yes, Buckbeak. Hagrid told your class how dangerous and proud Buckbeak was right? How Hippogriffs are wild and intelligent. They can tell when somebody is sincere and when they are being disrespected."

"Yeah, of course he did." Harry nodded. He remembered how excited Hagrid was to show the herd off, until Malfoy ruined it.

"And you listened to him? Showed Buckbeak respect and bowed to him, right?"

"Yes."

"Did Buckbeak attack you?"

Harry shook his head, smiling at the memory that suddenly hit him. "No, he let me ride him."

"Yes. But Malfoy didn't bow to him, did he?"

"No."

"And did Buckbeak give him a ride?" Marcus had a funny little smile on his face.

"No. he startled and ran away. Malfoy got cut when he reared up."

"Exactly. Buckbeak is like the rumor mill. A creature of profound force and cunning. You can either work with it and fly. Or disrespect it and get cut. Do you understand?"

"Um…I think so? So, in this case if I'm me, and the rumor mill is Buckbeak, who are you?"

"Well, I guess in this metaphor, I would be Hagrid."

Harry snorted, he couldn't imagine anyone less like the groundskeeper. Marcus was skinny and pale with stylishly fashionable hair and large bright brown eyes. Hagrid had sun darkened skin with a big bushy beard and always messy hair and small beetle black eyes.

"So, this rumor is spreading. What does that mean for me?"

Marcus smiled at Harry, already knowing that he had been a frequent victim of the gossip mongers. "Don't worry Harry everything will be fine."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could say anything another boy slid into the seat next to him. He was a Slytherin with deep-set eyes and short cropped black hair. his face was fuller and his nose crooked compared to Marcus, but they were undeniably related.

Marcus' smile slid off his face and he looked coolly at the boy. "Micah."

The other boy did smile. His teeth were so white Harry felt the need to squint at him. "Marcus." He turned to Harry with an outstretched hand. "And Harry, hello, my name is Micah. The better of the Collinsworth brothers."

"Is there something I can help you with?" Marcus interrupted.

The other boy, Micah let his hand drop before Harry had a chance to shake it. He turned his equally cool gaze over the table to Marcus. "I was just wondering if you've heard from Maximus yet?"

"No. I haven't, should I have?"

"He's working on the most interesting proposal. I thought that you might have heard anything?" The other boy, Micah had a snarky confidence that obviously irked his elder brother.

"I'm not interested in whatever Quidditch regulation practice he's intent on tweaking." Marcus pointedly ignored his brother as he focused on buttering a roll so violently the bread was squishing between his fingers.

Micah gave an absent little "Hmm" at his brother and sauntered back over to his house table. Harry was churning with curiosity but he didn't want to overstep. Marcus must have noticed his confusion. "My younger brother Micah. He's an irritant but useful in it's only way. He's letting me know Maximus is on board and he's begun filing the paperwork."

"Quidditch?" Harry asked aloud.

"Micah is in Slytherin, it's hard to have a conversation over there without somebody eavesdropping. Whereas over here, students tend to respect private conversation. Or at least they should." He tossed a significant look at a first year who suddenly looked abashed.

"Whatever you say." Harry smiled. "So, you're training the rumor mill?"

"No." Marcus laughed. "Just like hippogriffs, you can't tame the rumor mill. You can only lead it with tasty treats and hope it goes your way. Hagrid used weasels if I recall correctly. I use scandal. Nobody can resist a good scandal."

"Scandal?"

"You still haven't realized? Draco is the heir of House Malfoy. The news that he publicly disgraced himself will have reached outside the school by now. Notice that Ernie Macmillan isn't at lunch?"

Harry twisted and searchingly looked around the chaotic hall. "He's not?"

"No. He's already gone to send a letter on to his head of house. Along with some other heirs. Hannah Abbot will probably wait until her weekly letter to tell her mother but that's not to surprising. She's not one to-what is the muggle phrase? Bolt the sun?"

"Jump the gun." Colby corrected as he sat down next to Harry in the empty seat Micah left behind. "I never knew you could be so well informed? Mind revealing your source?"

Marcus gave him the tiniest smirk. "To you? Perish the thought." He leaned closer to whisper conspiringly to Harry. "Colby's uncle is the owner of the Daily Prophet. Be careful what you tell him. Who knows what will end up in ink?"

Colby looked offended. "I have no intention of running that gossip column that heartless Rita Skeeter spreads! I would never spill my friends' secrets!"

"Gossip column? More like a fiction section." Marcus snorted unattractively. "Remember that 'scoop' about Undersecretary's Lianne's love affair with a centaur?"

"Don't remind me." Colby slumped forward. "Uncle was digging through threats from his attorney for weeks. I wish she would just keep away from high profile stories. Skeeter always seems to turn a run of the mill inquiry in funds into the 'remarkable discovery of Death Eater ties and sympathies!' I can't count how many times someone has threatened libel because of her writings."

"Whose Rita Skeeter?" Harry asked curiously. He gave Marcus a look as he started piling Harry's plate with mash potatoes.

"A rat of a witch." Colby scowled unhappily.

"She's a reporter." Marcus said at the same time. "She is affiliated with the Daily Prophet. But her articles are a mess of scandalized fiction with a few truths dripped in to give it a semblance of believability. More than half of her writings give way to libel and slander suits against the paper."

"If she's so much trouble why don't they just fire her?"

"She's under contract." Colby says. "And we could fire her if someone filed a suit against her personally. But all the court actions are filed against the Prophet, so Uncle can't technically fire her just because the paper is under fire. It has to be proven to be her fault. That or she could get arrested, we could fire her then." He said the last bit hopefully.

"Good luck with that." Marcus said. "But I assume you being here means you already did as I requested?"

"You say requested like you bothered to ask. "Colby laughed. "But yeah, Uncle will be stoked that I gave him an official scoop straight from the horses' mouth, so to speak."

"Scoop?" Harry wondered.

"Malfoy heir mad with lust; Attacks Hogwarts surprise champion. House Malfoy in disarray." Colby impressively announced. "It'll be in its own column by tomorrow morning."

"Whose co-writing?" Marcus asked scooping a spoonful of cheesy potatoes into his mouth.

"I told Uncle to put Ryan Clearwater on it. He's our newest special interest reporter and a decent guy. Uncles hoping he'll replace Skeeter."

"Clearwater?" Marcus looked surreptitiously over at the Ravenclaw table. His dark eyes ran over a pretty blonde girl talking to Marlowe.

"Penelope's elder brother." Colby confirmed.

"Interesting."

"Wait, how is what you're doing any better than that Skeeter woman?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's not honestly." Marcus admitted. "But the chaos of the scandal will distract Lucius from our actions to dethrone him. It's a chess game. But we have to cheat to win."

Harry tried not to let the ugly feeling in his stomach grow but the thick helpings of potatoes he just had weren't settling well.

"I sent that letter to Remus." He tried to steer the conversation away from Marcus and Colby's sneaky actions.

Marcus seemed to sense he was uncomfortable and accommodated. "Good. I too have sent letters to my father. He's quite excited. Lucius has always treated subordinate houses badly."

"But why would they do that?" Harry asked. It seemed pretty prattish to be cruel to people who were loyal to you.

"I told you before that subsidiary houses are allies and confidants. Well the Malfoys are of the belief that means the cadet houses are little more than servants to do their bidding."

"That's horrible." Harry gasped.

"It's the Malfoy way." Colby shrugged. "Arseholes, the lot of them. But don't worry Harry, they won't be an issue for much longer." He winked at him.

Marcus took a bite of peas. "We'll handle everything."

Harry felt a sheen of sweat gather on his neck. He had no idea how Slytherin was thought of as the sneaky house. Hufflepuffs were insane.

 **Okay whew! Super long chapter! A bit rambling but It'll all make sense eventually. Leave a Review! Fleur and Viktor are definitely showing up next chapter! Maybe Remus and Sirius too.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome to a brand new chapter! I'm feeling loads better healthwise and things are so much better! The holidays are on their way and I'm stressing in that traditional way, lol. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Leave a review before you go!**

Viktor frowned as he sat down uneasily at the lunch table. He was surrounded by students in silver and green ties and scarves. He knew that Hogwarts was divided into four separate houses, but he wasn't quite sure the difference between them. Perhaps he should ask? The seeker turned to do so and was met with a gaggle of girls sitting nearby. Their eyes were trained on his every move. Each face was flushed and every twitch he made unleashed a tumble of giggles and whispers of 'did you see that?'

A brush of sweat began gathering along the back of Viktor's neck. It was like staring into a tank of carnivorous fish, complete with large gooey eyes and sharp overly toothed smiles.

Viktor swiftly turned back toward his plate. He knew better than to ask anything from girls like that. They were too shy to begin speaking to him, but if he started a conversation with them the floodgates would be unlatched, and he wouldn't be able to get a word through the requests for autographs, pictures, or even marriage proposals from the more confidant girls.

Viktor eased his school schedule out of his pocket, careful to keep it out of sight of the girls. He knew they would figure out his schedule eventually, but he wouldn't help them along with stalking his daily life. He ducked his eyes and scanned the small slip of parchment. He had some time between now and his next class. He would go to the Hogwarts library and see if there were any books on the Hogwarts houses.

Pasha eased into the seat next to him. A rat faced Slytherin boy close by made a face, as if he wanted to scold him for daring to sit next to Viktor. Viktor noticed and was quick to begin speaking in rapid Bulgarian to Pasha, keeping the boy from butting in.

" _Pasha, how was Arithmancy?"_ Viktor wasn't sure if the boney pinched lipped witch would teach as well as the loud jovial professor in Durmstrang.

" _Has anyone told you yet?"_ Pasha interrupted speaking in rapid Bulgarian, brushing Viktor's question away. His Russian accent twisting the Bulgarian language slightly.

The stress was evident in the man's voice and made Viktor straighten his already rigid spine. " _What?_ "

" _The boy was attacked."_ Pasha didn't say Harry's name for two reasons. One was the name was identical in both Bulgarian and English and he didn't want the obvious eavesdroppers surrounding them to overhear. Two was he hadn't been introduced to Harry and it was impolite to use his given name without permission. **(Apparently this is a cultural thing in some parts of Europe!)**

" _He was?"_ Viktor didn't let his eyes dart over to the far side of the room, where Diggory's house was sheltering Harry. He didn't want to draw attention to him. He knew any move he made was being closely inspected and dissected by the surrounding students and any attention he directed toward Harry would be analyzed and copied to a nauseating degree.

" _Apparently another boy tried to jump him. Some say it was an amorous attack, other say confrontational. There seems to be some confusion as to what really happened."_ Pasha reported, dragging a fork through a pile of potatoes. _"I only know that the attacker was taken to the hospital wing to be restrained and the boy wasn't seen for nearly an hour after class."_

Now did Viktor turn away from Pasha in order to scan the Hall. His fans squealed and began fluffing their hair and batting their lashes at him vying for his attention.

Luckily Diggory was just entering the hall. _"Let's go ask."_ He got up and Pasha joined him. Their exit was punctuated by sighs and whines of disappointment from Viktor's fans. Gregor was sitting nearby and quickly snagged a roll before joining them.

As they marched toward Diggory, suddenly a thin French brunette looped her arm in his and led him back out of the hall and away from them. The trio hesitated, an awkward pause in that their prey had been taken, before the brunette peeked back at them and jerked her head slightly, gesturing for them to follow.

She dragged Diggory over to a secluded hall off to the side. Viktor, Pasha, and Gregor followed curiously.

She led the four men into an empty classroom and shut the door behind them. Inside the classroom was Fleur Delacour and a handsome strawberry blond Frenchman with golden brown eyes.

"Amelie?" the Frenchman's' eyes darkly inspected the trio, "I thought you were just getting Diggory." The distain directed at them made Gregor and Pasha stiffen.

The brunette impishly fluffed her curly hair. "I did, Julien, but zhen I thought zat zhey would have zhe same questions about Mon Caneton."

"Duck?" Pasha frowned as he tried to translate the French endearment. The brunette flashed the Russian a stunning smile. The thin man melted at the attention.

Viktor pushed past the blushing man and addressed Diggory with a scowl. "Ve all agreed to protect him. Vhat happened?"

"Oui, my school has all volunteered to keep 'Arry safe." Fleur worried her hands. Her coiffed hair was frizzing with stress. Viktor noticed her lip was bitten and chapped, thinly glossed to conceal the imperfections.

"Mine too." Viktor nodded at the Frenchwoman's announcement. He felt relieved that all three schools were united in their need to protect Harry.

Cedric sighed. "My house has agreed to stand by him, but I can't speak for the rest of the school." He looked disappointed in his schools' division. Viktor felt similar disappointment.

"This is a stain on our honor!" Gregor shouted suddenly. "He was under your watch! How did this happen?!"

"I don't know!" Cedric yelled, frustration brightening his eyes. "He was with a Hufflepuff the whole time, we never left him alone! Nothing happened to him, I promise. Thomas, Daniel, and Hunter defused the situation and even got Malfoy away from Harry."

"Malfoy?" Julien hissed "That wouldn't be Lucius' son, would it?"

Viktor frowned, he remembered the blond boy from the Quidditch Cup. He was a pretentious brat who spent the entire evening bragging about his own seeker skills.

But Cedric nodded, and Julien made a low angry growl. "Why would he attack Harry?"

"Draco and Harry have been fighting since the first night of their first year. I was never really sure why Draco was so hostile until this morning."

"Vhy vould he be?" Viktor asked idly pinching Pasha to regain his attention. He was still staring at the brunette Amelie, the Russian swiped a hand to catch the drool that was clinging to his chin. He backed away behind Viktor, looking sheepish.

"Well," Cedric sighed "Draco was the only available heir to house Black until Harry. But since Sirius Black named him Heir he could see Harry as a threat to his inheritance apparently."

"Sirius Black! Zhe murderer!?" Fleur gasped, her blue eyes wide.

"He's Harry's godfather." Cedric shrugged. Viktor felt Pasha startle behind him in disbelief. A feeling that Viktor echoed. A convicted killer was given custody to the child he orphaned? What was wrong with the English?

"But he murdered his parents! How can he be his magical guardian?! Is your country completely insane!?" Julien roared. The enraged Frenchman advanced on Cedric, violently gripping his arms to shake him. Viktor was startled to see his nails were no longer clear and neat like before, now they were blackened and curved into deadly claws

"Julien! Enough!" Amelie wrenched Julien away from the Englishman and pushed him away from the group.

Fleur gave Viktor a significant look. She noticed he had seen Julien's slip of control. He gave a tiny shake of his head. Whatever was going on with the Frenchman was none of his concern. It wouldn't benefit anyone to mention it. The blonde gave him a nod, a small gesture of thanks. Cedric was busy rubbing the slowly blooming bruise under his sweater, he didn't notice the exchange.

Fleur began tapping her foot while Julian huffed, and Amelie shook her head at the Hufflepuff. Viktor crossed his arms and said nothing while Gregor and Pasha all stared down at a sheepish looking Cedric. None of the international students were pleased with the current showing of the United Kingdoms' competence.

Julien took a few loud deep breaths before returning to the group. His voice was determinedly calm, his hands fisted firmly at his side. "So, you're telling me that a convicted felon is permitted to adopt the child of his victims?" his voice was so soft that Viktor had to strain to hear him.

"I don't know all the details." Cedric admitted. "But Harry seems happy about it. I think there is more to the story than is publicly available. Whatever Black is, Harry trusts him."

"He's a child." Amelie scoffed disbelievingly. "he could be manipulated."

"I'm writing to my father. He has to come here and see this for himself." Julian declared. "A convicted killer permitted to be a magical guardian. No wonder Harry's being forced to compete, his guardian is a death eater!" The Frenchman waved his arms wildly as his voice rang louder and louder in the classroom.

"I don't think Black is Harry's guardian. He's on the run." Cedric tried to calm him down. A fruitless endeavor, as Julian continued to rage.

"Then who is!? Who consented to Harry's nomination? He's fourteen, you idiot! He can't consent to this himself!" Julian roared.

The three Durmstrang boys perked up. Gregor's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying that we can get him out of the tournament?" The large man's eyebrows were raised.

"Is that possible?" Viktor added hopefully. The idea that Harry could just sit out of the championship was pleasing. He was too young, and being forced to fight in a game that killed adults was painfully wrong.

"So long as Harry's legal guardian hasn't and won't consent to his nomination." Julien ran a distracted hand through his hair.

"He lives with his muggle guardians." Cedric pondered. "So, you mean if they don't consent-" he hedged.

Amelie shook her head in a fit of anger. Pasha sighed as wafts of her shampoo hit him. Viktor scrunched his nose. He didn't care for flora scents and she smelled heavily of roses. It was near nauseating to him, though Pasha's twitching nose indicated he couldn't get enough.

The thin brunette twisted her hands as she flustered, "No, that won't work. Muggles are not recognized by any magical government. Legally speaking he'd have two sets of guardians. One for the muggle world and one for ours."

Julien nodded, confirming her explanation. "He'd fall into much of the same categories as muggleborns. Who becomes a new magical guardian until they come of age?" his bright eyes turned to Cedric.

Cedric looked confused. "Well, um I'm not sure. I think it's Professor Dumbledore honestly. I remember him telling my dad he couldn't come to the Quidditch Cup because he was so busy with all the muggleborns registering for ministry positions this year."

"A headmaster?" Pasha gaped, sounding horrified. "Are you saying a school official is in charge of a students' entire magical life?"

Viktor tried to picture Karkaroff in charge of muggleborns. He'd purposefully ruin them before they could even understand the world they were entering. A thick shiver shot down his back. This was bad.

Cedric looked nonplussed at their reactions. He honestly couldn't see the problem. "I guess so? What's wrong?"

Julien looked appalled. "He can do anything with their lives! He can approve and deny apprenticeships, medical procedures, arrange betrothals, pull loans in their names! He has access to all their financials and every government record they accrue in the magical world! And he can't possibly be personally invested in each of the hundreds of students he's in charge of! Out of a hundred students he's got to be neglecting more than seventy of them at least! And He has thousands of students-not hundreds-Thousands!" Julien's face was a brilliant red, clashing terribly with his hair.

"What about Harry?!" Amelie gasped suddenly. "Hasn't Dumbledore already given his consent for him to fight?"

Julien groaned. "Yes, he has. And because the fire in the Cup went out, he can't rescind the consent. Zhees ez terrible." His accent thickened has he physically drained of despair. He dragged a hand through his hair mussing it up.

Viktor slumped against a nearby desk, the brief flare of hope was devastating to lose. "Vhat can be done now?" he asked, looking around.

Cedric looked helpless. He honestly wasn't sure what they could do.

Viktor shook his head. "Dis is pointless. Et's only October so ve have small time to get him out. Fijure it out." He commanded and stomped out of the room. Pasha and Gregor followed him. Leaving a sheepish and confused Cedric and a trio of enraged French students.

" _This is ridiculous_." Gregor growled. " _I can't believe this. A killer adopting a child."_ Viktor nodded.

" _We have to do something."_ Pasha agreed. " _Could someone petition to become his guardian? If his headmaster is not good enough?"_

Viktor slowed his pace. It suddenly occurred to him. He was seventeen. He was legally an adult. It was completely possible for him to become a guardian. He could adopt Harry if he needed him to.

Gregor broke his train of thought. " _He lives with muggles. It would be a shared custody in this country I think?"_

" _What do we know about his relatives?"_ Pasha wondered aloud, " _has anyone told them what is happening?"_

Viktor frowned he didn't like the idea of Harry's family not knowing that he's risking his life. They will undoubtedly be furious that their child is being put in danger, but they deserved to know. He turned to Pasha and Gregor.

" _Go get Vladmir; His sister is married to the Bulgarian ambassador. He will know the protocol to alerting Harry's family. Get that started. I'm going to the library to look up the adoption policy of this country. Perhaps there is something we can do."_

With that, the Bulgarian champion took a swift turn down the adjacent hallway. Pasha and Gregor began making their way back toward the Great hall.

Suddenly Viktor called back. " _Wait."_

they twisted around. " _What?"_

" _Where is the library?"_

 **And there we go! A brand new chapter! Is anyone else excited?! I sure am! I'm hoping the next chapter will be up before the end of November so stay posted! Viktor was a difficult character to write so he might be a little OOC. I hope I'm not overwhelming everyone with my OC's. Please leave a review when you go!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here we are! I told you there would be an update this month! Warning, updates usually slow around the holidays so be warned. I know I'm not the most consistant author but I hope that you'll bear with me and endure it. Please leave a review before you go! It lets me know there is still interest in the fic!**

Viktor eventually figured out his way to the library. The librarian was a pinched lip witch who wouldn't let him through the door without reciting a myriad of library rules, and when Viktor looked overwhelmed she repeated herself in Bulgarian; Rough simplistic Bulgarian but enough for him to get it.

Eventually Viktor was able to escape from her and make his way through the unending rows of books. His reading English was much better than his speaking. It would be a simple thing to research the adoption laws of this weird damp little country. Viktor shook his head absently. It was amazing how such a little gathering of islands could be so damn confusing and contradicting.

As he prowled up and down the narrow aisle between bookshelves he looked for political laws and adoption. Viktor scowled at the random organization of the books. It seemed that Hogwarts arranged their books by author's names instead of by subject like Durmstrangs' library did. It was irksome. How was he supposed to find anything?!

A prim little noise startled him. Viktor paused in looking (more like scowling) to minutely dread the feminine voice. No doubt this was a fan seeking to bother him. With a frown pulling his lips downward he turned toward the sound.

The young lady standing before him was interestingly average. Though she was pretty, she wasn't a great beauty. Viktor noticed her hair was a wild puff consisting of springy curls and soft waves. It easily distracted the eye from noticing the rest of her face. But Viktor did notice. His eyes; which were trained to notice and focus on the tiniest details-saw her cute button nose, her high cheekbones, her large brown eyes. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, but they had bright flecks of honey that reminded Viktor of a far off snitch glinting in the sunlight. But the most interesting thing about this witch, was how uninterested she seemed

She seemed to barely notice him at all. Her eyes were focused more on the bookshelf behind him. It was obvious Viktor was blocking her way. However, her English manners won out. "Can I help you?" she quipped. Her eyes still locked on the books. All but ignoring him. Her question was only said out of required politeness, not as an invitation for help. Her eyes were already phasing through him, eyeing the books behind him. She was only interested in making him move out of her way.

Viktor had never been ignored before. Witches fell at his feet, Wizards fawned and admired him, adults spoke of his achievements as if they were their own, children looked up to him in awe. Yet this witch did not. She did not even seem to recognize him! Her eyes shifted pass him as if he were nothing. A simple obstacle in her path. Worth no more notice than a single stone.

Viktor felt the sudden urge to make her look at him. To draw her gaze. To command her attention. He wanted her to acknowledge only him. He had never felt that before. It was a powerful possessive urge. Viktor opened his mouth to speak when his throat shuttered shut. He felt an odd sensation, like pregame jitters but worse. He didn't want her to hear him speak. His horrible English would sound ridiculous compared to her clear, proper accent. He didn't want to drive the pretty girl away by butchering her native language. He wanted her to pay attention to him, but not like that. But before he could scramble his limited English into a coherent sentence, she was already gone.

Taking his silence as dismissal the witch slid passed him in the narrow rows, aggressively snatching a thick tomb from the shelf by his elbow as she went. Brown eyes barely turned to look back at him as she disappeared. The faintest scent of lemon and honey trailed behind her.

Viktor stared after the witch. He was frozen for a long moment. It wasn't until he heard the random unwanted giggling of his incessant fans that he began moving away. As he trudged out of the library, he wanted to shake himself. He didn't even get her name. His pretty library witch. In a school as large as this, he might never find her. Damnit.

(LOOK AT THIS LINE! IT INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE!)

Remus picked at a soggy sandwich as he sat in the dour kitchen of Grimmauld place. He could hear Sirius upstairs, tossing his mother's heirlooms about recklessly. Madam Black's portrait was for once silent. He wasn't sure where Kreacher was and he was sure he didn't want to. Suddenly a regal eagle owl swooped into the kitchen and dropped a heavy envelope in front of him. Before Remus could so much as drop his lunch, the owl flew away.

Anxiously, Remus looked at the parchment. He knew for a fact that nobody knew where Sirius was and there wasn't anybody besides Sirius that would write to him. So, who was this for?

He flipped the envelope over and was startled to see his name. "Mr. Remus L. Lupin" with a slight hesitation, Remus opened his mail.

Hours passed in that dingy kitchen as he read and reread the contents. His mind flabbergasted at the written news. Remus stared blankly at the parchment in front of him, his hands trembling as Sirius came bounded down the stairs.

"Moony?" Sirius' head popped into the kitchen doorway. "What's wrong?"

"I've been summoned to the Hogwarts board of Governors."

"What?! Why? I though Dumbledore would protect you after last year? You can't go Remus. They'll turn you over the ministry!" Sirius was immediately irate. His black eyes flashing with fear. He didn't want to lose his last friend in the world.

Remus gave out a shuddering sigh. "No, no Sirius, it's not about last year. I've been summoned for my nomination interview."

"Nomination?" The grim Animagus tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy.

"I've been placed as a regent governor on the Hogwarts board, filling the Black seat." He gave Sirius a significant look.

The sallow faced man raised his arms. "Hey, not me; convicted felon here!"

"Then who? Who else has the authority of House Black?"

Sirius frowned as he thought about it for a moment, then his face cleared, opening into a triumph grin. "Harry."

"Harry?" Remus looked up at his grinning friend.

"I named him my heir. He must have done it." Sirius began chortling.

Remus looked stunned. "Harry named me regent governor? Me?"

Sirius slowed his giggling, looking sincerely at the bleary eyed wolf. "Harry loves you Remus. And personally, I can't think of anyone better suited to the position. You're certainly stuffy enough."

Remus was too busy gaping at him to toss back a joke.

Another beat and Sirius began giggling again, almost hysterically. "Remus, Governors are well paid; Really well paid! And they can sit in office for life! Harry just handed you the best job ever!" he tugged Remus out of the kitchen chair and began dancing around the table. An odd little dance that was a mix of an irish jig and a traditional waltz.

Remus smiled broadly. This was the happiest Sirius had been in months. He began chuckling with him, and before he knew it he was howling with laughter dancing around the dour kitchen of Grimmauld Place with his best friend. Things-things were finally looking up.

 **This is a quick update as the holidays roll up on us. Yes, I do ship Viktor and Hermione. No it won't be a major part of this fic. A few exposition bits maybe but not overwhelming, so if you hate the ship, don't leave the fic. I love Remus and Sirius so much. They are such fun characters to write! their dynamic is so exciting to write. Stay tuned for more and leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey hey party people! I hope everyone has had a wonderful Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza/what holiday your family observes! This is my end of the year gift to all of you! Please enjoy!**

Harry fell into his bed with a loud sigh. The dorm was blessedly quiet with his dorm mates sleeping, and he felt rung dry. The day was confusing and exasperating. With Marcus trying to explain the rumor mill plan that he didn't understand. Remus and his nomination for governor was an entire headache in and of itself. The stress of the tournament itself. And now the Hufflepuff's campaign to destroy Malfoys' reputation. Harry just didn't know what to do.

He couldn't walk three feet without hearing someone whispering and gossiping. Before it was how he got his name in the cup, now it was about Malfoy and his supposed crush. The second he walked into Gryffindor tower he besieged by his peers wanting to hear 'his side' of the story. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were particularly hungry for details. The two girls chased after him like Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper, until he was able to escape up the stairs to the boy dorms.

As he pulled his pajamas on, he peeked over his shoulders at Ron. The red head was frowning, eyebrows pulling down. Harry didn't know what his best friend (and could he even still call him that?) was thinking.

Instead of trying to make conversation, Harry put it off. With a quick silencing charm over his bed he had pulled the drapes and snuggled down into his duvet.

Harry was weary to the bone. His body sank deeply into his bed as the day dragged him down. The brunet rolled to his side and shut his eyes, sleep can help, he knew. He always curled up in his bed when things became to much, ever since the Dursleys' first gave him a bed. Nobody bothered him when he slept. Sleep was good.

Harry sighed as he sank into his beds' duvet. Then he twisted to his other side, then onto his back. Then he wrangled his pillow to fluff it up, then he pushed it down to rest between his bony knees.

Hours of bed shuffling later, Harry gave up. he couldn't sleep. With an unhappy sigh he cast a quick Tempus.

3:36 am.

Harry eased his broom out of his trunk, along with is fathers' cloak as quietly as he could.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get to sleep tonight. His main form of escape wasn't available now. Even if he did manage to sleep now, he'd be even more exhausted in the morning. So, he gave up.

Quidditch was another escape he had to him. Nobody could catch him in the sky. There was no Dursley's, no Malfoy, no random Hogwarts student feeling entitled to his personal life. It was just him and the wind.

Harry made his way down to the pitch with a quiet confidence. The whole castle was quiet, even Filch and Ms. Norris have gone off to bed. The Quidditch pitch was blanketed in a thin coat of mist and early morning dew clinging to the grass.

Harry shivered under his thick sweater as the morning chill crept through him. He padded into the Gryffindor lockers and hid his cloak away. Once back outside, Harry mounted his broom and with a deep breath he pushed off the ground.

The air whipped around him as he flew. Harry loved this sensation. The uplifting feeling. The freedom of the pitch. The excitement of it all. Harry twisted his aim and began to do laps around the pitch. The chill morning air cut through him and tangled in his hair.

He sped up his pacing. Each lap came faster and faster until he was a blur on the pitch. He began weaving in-between the perimeter field towers and goal posts. He felt his toes skim across the loose fabric covering the towers as his turns became tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, he noticed another figure mounting a broom on the pitch. Harry ignored the figure and continued his laps. He figured that it was another student. One who was eager to get him alone to get more gossip fuel or something, Harry pushed his broom faster and faster. Knowing that his Firebolt could outpace any school broom available; he wasn't worried about somebody catching him.

But, to his surprise, the mysterious flyer easily caught up to him and began to follow his path around the pitch. A quick look allows harry to see who the flyer is.

It was Viktor Krum.

He hadn't seen Krum since the choosing ceremony. Harry remembered the Bulgarian holding a bin under him as he puked. A spread of red filled his cheeks as he remembered it. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear whatever Krum was going to say to him.

But as a hint of the sun began to peek over the top of the forbidden forest, Harry knew he couldn't delay the inevitable. He began to slow his laps.

Viktor kept an easy pace with him and soon the two slowed to a lazy set of laps around the field.

"You vly vell." was the first thing Viktor said.

"Thanks. You do too." Harry felt a warmth set in along his neck. 'you do to?' Why did he say that? Of course, Viktor Krum flew well. He was Viktor Krum.

"You are angry." Viktor stated.

"What?"

"You're vlying angry. Dat is not good."

Harry took a moment and realized what Krum meant. His palms were bruised from gripping his broom, his knees ached from knocking against the length of the wood without pads, his eyes watering and his lips were chapped and bleeding from the high force winds as he flew. In short, he looked like hell.

"I couldn't sleep." Harry blandly excused. He tugged his sleeves to cover the already purpling lines on his hands.

"So, you are trying to exhaust yourself? That is not a good plan, you will just make yourself sick. I am thinking. Vlying in cold air with thin clothes and no cloak."

Harry started, he hadn't felt it before but once Krum mentioned it he noticed how crisp and cool the early morning air was and how easily it cut through his thin pajama pants.

"I uh-"

"Here." Krum swiftly untangled himself from his own cloak and flung it over Harry's shoulders. "You vill become sick if not careful. Take Pepper up when you go inside." Krum leans forward and begins to descend from the air, Harry reluctantly follows him. They end up hovering in the middle of the pitch less than a few meters from the ground.

"You are not wanting to be sick during de interview." Viktor continued. "I have had cold during team photoshoot vunce, it vos de vorst."

"Interview?" Harry felt a tinge of dread at the word.

"Da. Did no one tell you? De prophet will bring a reporter in today during the veighing of vands." Viktor scowled. Karkaroff told him as soon as he heard, did Harry's headmaster neglect this duty as well?

"What's that?"

"Et's to make a better show I am thinking. A Vand crafter vill be there. De reporter will take pictures and speak to us."

"I-I've never done an interview."

"Really? I have seen books that claim, 'exclusive interview' vith the boy who lived."

"I've never given an interview before so-wait, there are books?"

"Da, hundreds."

"HUNDREDS? About what? Me?"

"Da. You did not know?" Viktor's heavy brows furrowed together. That sounded like more of the institutionalized incompetence he was becoming familiar with as he learned more of this country. Did Harry not have a publisit? Or did his so called guardian not bother to halt the capitalization of his charge?

"No. what are the books about?" Harry's cheeks-which were already pink from the cold-flushed a deep cherry.

"How you stopped Dark Lord. Who you are. Your family. Other such things." 'Personal things' Viktor thought privately. 'Things that should be kept part of ones private life like his grades, his friends, and his family.'

"I was a toddler when he died." Harry deadpanned. "I probably just cried and wet my nappy that night."

Viktor snorted. "I have never thought of dat before."

Harry smiled sardonically. "No one ever does. I hate being famous. Especially for something I didn't do."

"Vat? Didn't do?" Viktor asked his head tilting slightly in confusion.

"I was a baby. As far as I can think, my parents are probably the ones who killed him. Not me."

"Vet you are the vone to survive. People vill see you as a symbol of hope."

"I'm not a symbol. I'm- I'm just Harry."

"I know how dat feels."

"You do?"

"Da. Vhen I vly or give interviews I am Viktor Krum, great seeker, National pride, my countries 'favorite son'." The older boy shrugged. "Vhen I am at home I am littlist bruder or da only von still in school. Every other time I can manage, I am just Viktor."

"Does it happen to you alot? People treating you like you're something you aren't?"

"People treat you like dis?" That wasn't right. Viktor had to struggle to not let Harry see him frown.

"Yeah, I mean. Even the teachers do sometimes. It's like they had this idea of who I was before they met me, and now they're disappointed that I can't live up to it. How do you not lose your mind?" Harry peered up at his fellow seeker, desperate for someone to understand him. Even just a little.

"By not making et personal, I guess. Et is not easy. Et is veird seeing your face on posters and flags. Vunce I had a lady vith a tattoo of my jersey number across her…um, never mind." Viktor flushed himself as he recalled that rather bold fan. He had nearly forgotten that Harry wasn't only a fellow celebrity, he was also fourteen.

An awkward pause lingered around them as they hovered over the pitch. Bright beams of early morning light began to filter between the treetops of the Forbidden forest.

Harry took a breath. "Will the interview be bad?" A deep shuddering of anxiousness begin to settle in the middle of his chest.

"If et's your first, et vill not be easy. But I vill be there, vith the other champions too. Ve vill not leave you alone." Viktor made a mental note to speak to the other champions.

"Thanks." With that promise they touched down on the field a soon parted ways. Harry with a small bit of that overwhelming tension from before, sliding off his shoulders.

(LOOK AT THIS LINE IT INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE!)

The Hogwarts board of governors were a group of dour dough faced old wizards and witches who all seemed to be on their last legs. Remus never thought a day would come when he'd consider Dumbledore young. But he was practically youthful when compared to these men and women. Except for Lucius Malfoy, who seemed keen on burning a hole through Remus with his cold gray eyes.

"So Remy dear." One ancient witch who only had a few copper coils left in the nest of silver on her head.

"Uhm, It's Remus ma'am."

"Yes dear. Now Remy, you were nominated for a position among us?" she seemed pleasant enough, though devoted to calling everyone pet names.

"Yes, ma'am."

"As the Black Regent I see. Until the current heir comes of age." Remus felt like his palms were soaking his sleeves. "Yes ma'am."

Lucius pale face was puced. "That's impossible," He sneered, "Draco would never-"

"I wasn't finished Luci." The first witch cut across him. "Mind your manners young man, you're certainly not so old I can't throw you over my knee. How sweet little Braxi raised someone as impertinent as you I'll never know."

Remus nearly choked. 'Luci? Braxi? As in Abraxas Malfoy, the former feared patriarch of the Malfoy line?!'

"My apologizes Elder Prewitt, yet I fail to see how my son-"

A wizard on the far side of the round table slapped his hand down. "Well if you shut up maybe she'll tell you how?!" he began grumbling quietly. "Impatient youths, back in my day hoodlums like you would be…" his mumbling petered off as Elder Prewitt sniffed and resumed her speech. "Now then, where were we? Ah yes, Remy, you were nominated by the current heir; a mister Harry James Potter?"

Lucius choked.

"Yes ma'am." Remus answered. Elder Prewitt smiled at him. "And what is your relationship with ?"

"His father and I were dear friends until his death. And I had the privilege of being Harry's defense against the dark arts teacher."

"You've taught?" another elder perked up. "About time we've had someone with practical experience. Besides myself of course." The gnarled face wizard preened self-importantly.

"Yes yes Reginald." Elder Prewitt waved him off before focusing back on Remus. "How long ago did you teach?"

"Last year ma'am"

"Last year? Now you wouldn't be that remarkable teacher my grandnephews kept raving about?"

"Who are your nephews if I may ask?

"Fred, George, Ron, and Percy are the ones who are Hogwarts age. along with my grand niece Ginevra. Though out of all of them, only Fred and George write to me. Their mother Molly is my niece."

"I remember them all. Fred and George in particular. Incredible reflexes, innovative, and both with a sharp mind. They had amazing intuition and the most creative ideas on how to handle difficult tasks. Their theoretical essays were a thrill to grade." Remus smiled as he thought of the two fourth-now fifth- years.

"Yes, they are quite something aren't they?" Elder Prewitt preened happily.

"Ron was a bit of a traditionalist when it came to problem solving, it happens often when one is as talented in chess strategy as he is. Percy's essays were always impeccable and well organized. And young Ginevra had a talent for learning and excelling in wand work, particularly offensive spells."

"Yes, yes, it's amazing isn't it? all the boys in our family go on to do incredible things, and the girls certainly don't disappoint either! You know my other nephew Charlie is one of the tip top Dragon Handlers in Romania and at only nineteen! His brother William is one of the elite curse breakers in the United Kingdom too."

"Elder Prewitt if we could continue with the matter at hand." Lucius hissed, his face looking incredibly sour after hearing her boast about Arthurs gaggle of brats.

Elder Prewitt gave out a dramatic sigh. "Yes of course we can Luci." She placated.

Lucius threw a superior look at Remus. "Now how did Potter supposedly become Heir? His only blood tie to the Blacks is Dorea, his grandmother. My own wife is of a closer relation."

Remus straightened his spine. "Sirius Black, the current Patriarch of the Black, has named him as his heir."

"Black is a convicted murderer!" Lucius snapped, looking enraged. "He couldn't have named an heir!"

"Actually," Remus cut across Malfoy before he could begin his tirade, "Sirius was only ever a held suspect of murder pending a formal trial." The werewolf gave Lucius a nasty smile. "Held for questioning for the past thirteen years."

"What?" The various elders seemed knocked back by his words.

Remus nodded, looking appropriately sad. "Being a suspect alone doesn't strip him of his traditional place, nor of the rights and responsibilities that come with it."

One dark skinned wizard began coughing into a handkerchief. "I always knew the ministry was slow, but this is ridiculous. Thirteen years awaiting trial that's just stupid slow. I'll be contacting my grandson after this." He finished with a wheeze.

"Yes, but for now. With Mr. Potter named heir and his patriarch unavailable for political reasons, I see no reason why Mr. Lupin is not a respectable regent, at least until Mr. Potter comes of age." Elder Prewitt smiled matronly.

"But I am-!"

"You! You are provincial governor because Little Cissa couldn't be bothered! Your claim is pathetically miniscule when compared to Remy's." Elder Prewitt hissed.

"Now all those in favor of 's nomination say Aye." She bulldozed over Lucius' spluttering.

A rumbling chorus answered her. "AYE"

"Those opposed?"

"Nay." Lucius was alone.

 **And there you have it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next time we'll have the Weighing of the Wands (one of the harder chapters to write), Meeting more Collinsworths, and seeing a bit more foreign hands rocking the English boat. I'm particularly excited about writing the Dursleys and the reactions to them. I'm toying with the idea of just devoting a chapter just to that scene, what do you guys think? Leave a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay so I'm back. A lot has happened including an incident that forces me to type with a lacerated thumb. Its been a rough year so far. But this fic is honestly fun and I have no intention on leaving it behind. Please enjoy! Leave a review before you go!**

Harry went through the rest of the morning in a daze. His mind felt like it was stuffed with cotton. His thoughts whirled with the stress of the upcoming interview. He barely managed to transfigure his pillow into a rose and he couldn't even guess what they did in Charms. His head was filled with horrid daydreams of exactly how wrong this 'interview' would go.

Would they want to talk about Voldemort? Ask him how he defeated him? Would they be disappointed that he didn't know? Would they ask about his parents? Or about the Dursleys? Oh, Merlin he hoped not. The last thing he needed was for some wizarding reporter to go snooping around Privet Drive looking for an 'exclusive'. Aunt Petunia would have a conniption and Uncle Vernon would probably chase him down with the new Lincoln he bought this year.

Marcus didn't let him skip lunch, even though his stomach was flipping and twisting. "I'm just not hungry." Harry unsuccessfully tried to dodge the spoonful of beans that he dumped on his plate.

Marcus frowned. "Then eat toast. But you need to eat. I won't let you starve yourself for something as pedestrian as nerves."

Colby shoved Marcus playfully. "Leave off. He's nervous about the interview." The older boy leaned over the table to whisper. "Don't worry about a thing. My uncle is sending Audrey London to do the interview. She's a real sweetheart. She's got brass balls when it comes to Quidditch stats and getting the goods on players, but she knows this is just going to be a PR puff piece, so she'll stick with soft ball questions."

"Like what?"

"What you think about the other champions, what you think about the tournament, broad open-ended questions. Nothing personal. More than likely she'll be fluttering around Krum than any of the rest of you. Just let him take the lead. He knows the most about interviews out of all of you."

"Okay." Harry felt just a smidge better on that. "I thought it would be that Rita woman you and Marcus told me about."

"Skeeter?! No way in hell. She's a bloody weasel of a woman. I wouldn't inflict her on my worst enemy."

Marcus coughed pointedly. Colby gave him a disdainful side-eye. "Okay, maybe on my worst enemy. For an hour."

"Is she really that bad?"

"Worse. She's a puffed-up psycho who gives reporters all around a bad name."

Marcus snorted into his pumpkin juice. "Like reporters had a sterling reputation before she came along."

"Point taken; but shut up." Colby snarked and Marcus unrepentantly laughed, the light sound prompted Harry to join in.

Colby made a dramatic motion, clutching his heart. "Against me, the both of you! The betrayal! How cruel!" Harry clutched his stomach in giggles. The students surrounding them began laughing along with the three of them. Colby kept his dramatics up for a bit until everyone's laughter petered off. "But seriously Harry, you don't have to worry. Just let Cedric and the others help you out and everything will be fine. If you feel uncomfortable with a question, then just say so. London won't push the issue."

"Thanks Colby, I feel a lot better."

"If you feel better then eat."

"Marcus!"

(LOOK AT THIS LINE! THIS INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE!)

That afternoons Potions class was somehow more agonizing as usual. Malfoy had slunk to the back of the class and seemed determined not to make eye contact with anyone, least of all Harry. His usually impeccably styled hair was messy, shallow purple bags hung under his eyes, and his tie was sloppily knotted. Narrow grey eyes focused intently on the caldron in front of him, ignoring everyone.

Everyone seemed hell bent on seeing Harry's reaction to seeing Draco. At least judging by Lavender and Parvarti's eager expressions. Harry refused to react. He instead kept a carefully bland expression, just so the gossip mongers would lack ammunition.

As iridescent smog filled the dungeons Snape stalked up and down the aisles snapping out disparaging comments to the Gryffindor's and liberally allotting points to the Slytherins. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape seemed to avoid Malfoy's now dreary corner of the classroom. The tension in the room was unbearable.

With a timid knock Colin Creevey peered in nervously to fetch him for the interview. By that point, Harry was swimming with relief to get away. Snapes' parting dart seemed lackluster without Malfoys' usual snicker to accompany it.

Rita Skeeter was nothing like Harry imagined. From the way Colby had described her, he assumed she'd be a squat, dour, beady eyed woman like his unlikable aunt Marge. Or a stringy, thin, pursed lipped woman like Aunt Petunia. A miserable type of woman who gleefully spend her life listening to keyholes for tidbits of gossip to spread around the neighborhood.

The reality of Skeeter was quite different.

Her hair was a bright happy yellow color and was glamorously coifed in tight curls around her head. Her features were sharp and narrow, emphasized by her dazzling eyewear. A colorful quill was obviously charmed to take notes and it seemed to dance around her head. Everything she wore was brightly colored and had a thick polyester shine. Harry could clearly see now, Rita Skeeter didn't just listen to gossip, she craved it, relished in it, and when necessary- invented it.

"I'm Rita Skeeter, it's a pleasure I'm sure!" She happily introduced herself looking around them. "Marvelous," She cooed in a sickly-sweet way that set Harry's teeth on edge, "Absolutely marvelous!" Her eyes were unnervingly focused on Harry. Before the Gryffindor could swallow past the foul taste sneaking up his throat, Cedric suddenly shifted his weight to the right. Casually using his own body to shield Harry. Viktor and Fleur swiftly joined him in putting Harry behind them. A physical wall between him and the reporters.

"Hello," Cedric smiled charmingly, "Mrs. Skeeter, was it? Colby told us his uncle sent Audrey London. So, may I ask why you are here, seeing as this isn't your assignment?" Cedric's voice was soft but his eyes were steely. The photographer's eyes flew open as he swung a nervous look at Skeeter. Skeeter gamely kept her grin although her eyebrow twitched. Cedric cheerfully ignored the tension he created as the two traded guilty glances.

Skeeter recovered quicker than the gaping photographer. "Poor miss London had a family emergency, I'm covering for her." Rita sneered only slightly off put by Cedrics' attitude. "And it's miss Skeeter." She corrected primly.

Fleur made a polite twitter. "So, you're not married?" the Frenchwoman quipped, "Well I suppose one would be aggressive in zeir career; provided zey have no distractions like husbands or paramours."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sweetheart." Skeeter looked cuttingly at Fleur.

"Of course, I know zhat zhe French accent can be a bit harsh for zhe Inglish to hear. By zhe way, I lofe your earrings Mamzelle."

"Oh," Skeeter looked please, she reached a long hand topped with green claws to fiddle with one of the enormous rhinestones dangling from her ears. "Why thank you, I-"

Fleur cut her off with a demure grin. "My maid wears a lot of fake jewelry too."

Harry was reminded of Aunt Petunia and the other housewives of Privet Drive and their passive aggressive, nasty conversation. Skeeter seemed furious for a quick moment, then she seemed to force her face into a thin professional smile.

"Let's just get on with the article. How about personal interviews?" Her boney hand whipped out between Cedric and Fleur, suddenly tugging Harry toward her by the wrist. She began to pull him toward the door. "Let's start with the youngest." She chirped over her shoulder.

"No!" Viktor's voice rang out as a bright blue spell splashed against the door. Each champion had their wands out and pointed at her. The Prophet photographer lined up a shot and took a blinding picture of the three champions.

Skeeter looked unimpressed. "Pardon me, but I was given full access to write the article." She sneered aggressively.

"No, you weren't. Audrey London was." Cedric growled, his expression stormy. "And the tournament agreed to an article overview and a group photo only. Personal interviews were not included in the arrangement."

Viktor scowled. "In addition, Ve three are adults." He gestured to the other two champions. "Ve can consent to interviews. He cannot." He pointed at Harry.

"He's a champion!" Skeeter seethed. Her false nails dug into Harry's arm. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. She had really sharp nails.

"He's a child." Fleur brushed past the other champions, "And we cannot let an adult walk away with a child zey don't know." Fleur sniffed as she glided close and gracefully detangled Harry from Skeeters' grip. "Who know what your intentions are." She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the older woman.

Skeeter looked shocked. "What!? What are you implying?! I would never!" Another flash startled her. She spun and screeched at the photographer. "Stop that Jeremy!"

Cedric stepped closer, ready in case Skeeter pulled her wand. "I believe we are done here. Please inform your employer that we will allow a group interview with miss London." Cedric promptly turned to the man; Jeremy. Completely stonewalling Skeeters helpless spluttering as she tried to salvage the interview. "Of course, Miss Skeeter will be asked to leave the premise and not return. It will be up to Harry and his guardians on whether or not to press charges."

"Charges?!" Skeeter shrieked. "For what?!"

Fleur gently pushed Harry's sleeve up, revealing the scratches from Skeeters nails. The pale bruises on his palms from this morning were nearly invisible when compared to the vivid red welts rising up along his wrist and forearm. Fleur shot a sour look at the older blonde "For zhe assault of zhe minor."

Viktor grunted "Und attempted kidnapping too." His dark eyes were narrowed.

"I do suggest you leave now Miss Skeeter. Before trespassing charges are added onto that." Cedric gave an insincere smile at the flustered reporter.

Skeeter made a furious face before she fled the room, her garish quill chasing after her.

"Um. I'll..I'll be sure to tell Mr. Colby what you said." Jeremy fervently said before fleeing after Skeeter.

The other champions cloistered around Harry. "You alright there?" Cedric asked. "I'm sorry about that. I wish we had been given a heads up that Skeeter was coming."

"Dat vas not a good first interview. I am sorry ve let her near you. Should not have happened." Viktor huffed, "That vas a terrible voman. I am hoping that da next reporter vill be more professional?" He directed his question to Cedric.

"Colby told me that Audrey London was doing the interview. As she's the sports correspondence for the Daily Prophet. I have no idea what Skeeter was doing here. She just writes a trashy gossip column. Colby's Uncle will sort this out I'm sure of it. She won't be coming back."

"I should 'ope not!" Fleur tossed her hair back. "Zat…tart! I 'ope zat zhe school will ban her from the grounds. Such a beast should never be allowed near zhee children!" The Frenchwoman still had a gentle hand on his wrist and swiftly looped her other arm around his shoulders. "Come now. Zhee 'ospital is zhis way, yes?" Fleur gallantly led the way out of the classroom to the hospital wing, keeping her arms around Harry.

"I'm fine, really." Harry unsuccessfully tried to wiggle away. "It's just a scratch." He shrugged against Fleurs firm arms around him.

"It's not just a scratch Harry, it's assault." Cedric stomped on his side. "That woman had no right to put her hands on you. The moment she did, she committed a crime."

"A report must be made." Viktor came up on his other side, next to Fleur. "Ve must document the wounds."

"I don't want to make a fuss. It's just a little scratch. She didn't mean to scratch me." Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to give the rumor mill anything else to talk about. It was humiliating.

"It's not a fuss to us, Harry. Please, just let us do this. I know it's annoying, but it'll make Viktor, Fleur, and me feel better. None of us should have let her get her hands on you." Cedric tilted his head down, looking sad. Bright blond curls fell over his eyes. "We all promised that we wouldn't let you get hurt in this tournament and it's not even the first task yet. Please, Harry?"

Harry sighed, his face flushing. This was so embarrassing. "Fine."

Less than an hour later, Collinsworth and Colby came striding through the hospital wing doors as Madam Pomphrey was putting away the salve. Collinsworth seemed upset, his dark eyes darting over the pink now blemish free skin of Harry's wrist. While Colby seemed almost giddy as he waved his hands around and near enough skipped toward them.

"Potter," He grinned, his cheeks flushed with glee. "I will give you anything you want if you file charges against that woman. Anything! You want a new broom? An ink set? Hell, I'll buy you a house-elf if you want one! If you press charges, the paper can finally get rid of her. It can even be a small civil suit. I don't care. Just, Please!" The Hufflepuff seemed manic as he fluttered around the cot Harry was on.

Harry flushed. "I don't know how to file charges." He looked down at the newly healed skin on his wrist. All this fuss over a little scratch? This was nothing compared to the bumps and bruises he collected over the summer.

Colby eagerly turned to Collinsworth, eyes wide and pleading. "!" he made a desperate squeak.

The dark haired boy smiled. "I'll take care of it. Or at least my brother will."

(LOOK AT THIS LINE! IT INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE!)

Maddux Collinsworth loved his job. Most ministry workers winced or made sympathetic sounds when they learned he worked in the Records department, which was commonly called the paper dungeon. They had no idea.

Sure, it wasn't action packed like the law and order department with their Aurors. And it didn't provide the hilarious anecdotes Arthur Weasley brought home from the muggles artifacts department.

But what it did have was power. He had power over every person who came in contact with the ministry. Of course, it was a subtle, unrecognized power. But it was significant. He had knowledge and access. Maximus had the ample opportunity to manipulate the strings of a person's life.

If they filed their taxes, he knew how much they paid and what they owed. He could see who had a visit to Saint Mungo's, an upcoming financial audit, an active investigation, or pretty much any action or activity that left a government paper trail.

Most his children understood his position and were all equally impressed with his ability to 'slither' into such an advantageous position. A thought that he sometimes rather resented as a Ravenclaw.

Lucius never understood his abilities. Not once in all the time he worked in the department had Lucius even considered the possibilities. The Malfoy Patriarch failed time and time again to use his position. Lucius relied on clumsy scheming and overly generous bribes to elevate his position. Frittering away both the Malfoys prestige and fortune. Maximus truly believed that he was one of the only ones in the world that new exactly how low the Malfoy fortune was falling. It was obvious that Lucius didn't even see to his own accounting, the way he and his wife spent their galleons.

But now that Marcus' had successfully gotten the Potter Heir to claim the Black family seat, he didn't have to kowtow to the Malfoys' for much longer. His sixth son Marcus was quite clever in cementing their place with the new Heir and even making moves to discredit the Malfoy's.

The Malfoy house would fall in both prestige and position soon. And when Lucius is left with nothing, but the shatter remains of his once great house he would look up and see Maddux. And he would regret ever thinking the Collinsworth family insignificant.

 **Okay good ending. I've really enjoyed crafting the Collinsworth family. And yes, all of their names start with M. So it might get a little confusing down the line but whatever. The next chapter will feature the Dursley family. It's gonna be the beginning of the end for a lot of people. So stay tuned and leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay it has been way too long since I've updated. Some major life changes going on so it's been rough finding time to write. I had a pretty severe ear infection in both ears that compromised my hearing (I still have trouble hearing soft sounds even though it's gone now) but because I couldn't listen to my music or watch tv without subtitles (I hate subtitles) I really didn't have anything to do but write. So at least there's that.**

 **Leave a review before you go!**

Alexander was a very proud man. As an ambassador to a foreign nation it was difficult to deal with as England, he felt that he earned that bit of pride. He didn't often do favors for his insufferable brother-in-law. Vladimir was now an adult, but he was also a shining example on why chronology doesn't mean maturity.

But Alexander relented. Vladimir did honestly seem concerned in his letter and in truth he should be. When Vladimir told him about how the English were forcing a child to compete in such a ridiculous notion it shocked him. The fact that that child was Harry Potter, an English iconic celebrity was even more ridiculous. It was an obvious plot by the remnants of that terrorist group that troubled them not so long ago. Honestly, Alexander continued to be amazed by the incompetence of the English.

He was officially the ambassador between the United Kingdom and his own home country of Bulgaria. But unofficially, his job was mainly spent stopping English officials from offending the officials of his own. From 'translating' offensive dogma from that bumbling Minister Fudge and his cronies, to subverting memos and letters that could destroy the relationship between their countries.

So once again he was here to right another failing of the English government. The muggle neighborhood he was in was painfully average and dull. Alexander took another glance to the parchment he held scribbled with the address. #4 looked like a carbon copy of every other house on the street.

Privet drive looked like something in an idyllic magazine spread of perfect suburbia. The lawns were all neat and groomed nicely. The driveways were all filled with clean, shiny, well-maintained cars. The mailboxes each stood as silver shining sentinels at the end of each drive. The only deviation between #4 and all the others was the gardens Whereas every other house had a spray of yellow and orange chrysanthemum flowers in their garden boxes #4's garden was filled with slightly wilted purple pansies and drooping snap dragons left over from the summer style. This small difference was odd in a setting where everyone tried to emulate everyone else.

Alexander frowned but trudged forward. He had honestly thought that after the debacle of an adolescent Cerberus needing emergency transport to the Poda Nature preserve in Burgas, and the emergency allocation of guards for Azkaban when the dementors being permitted to take leave to vacation at a school full of children, he wouldn't ever be surprised by English incompetence again. But he never expected this level of appalling vastness of idiocy from the English government. They had neglected to inform a family that their underaged child will be forced to face deadly challenges in a competition that was designed for adults.

Shaking off the unkind thoughts swirling in his head, Alexander raised a hand and confidently rapped on the door.

A thin blond woman opened the door with a thin plastic smile. "Hello?"

"Hello Ma'am," Alexander saw her smile drop as she heard his accent. "My name is- "

She cut across him. "We aren't interested in buying any magazine subscriptions today." Her thin lips were pursed like she was sucking on a lime.

"I'm not selling magazines ma'am. My name is- "

"Then you're a Jehovah's witness or some such nonsense? Well no thank you, we are quite happy at our current church." She snapped, waving a hand as if to shoo him off her doorstep like a stray cat.

"Ma'am my name is Alexander Kurpin, I'm a government official. Not a solicitor or a missionary. May we speak inside?" Alexander had had quite enough of her rude behavior. The blonde woman blinked in surprise and then she seemed to light up. she suddenly transformed into the perfect hostess, speaking supisciously loud . "Oh! You must be wanting a government contract with Vernon's company! He didn't mention anyone was coming over after work. Come in, come in!"

Alexander almost rolled his eyes at this woman's transparent behavior, but he gamely refrained. At least this got him inside the house and off the street. He noticed more than a few lace curtains twitching inside the other houses as he went inside.

"Vernon! Vernon darling, there is a man here to see you!" The thin woman cooed sweetly into the house. Alexander felt his back molars twinge from the sickly sweetness of her tone.

"Tuney? What's that?" an enormous blob of a man came waddling down the stairs. He had sweat slicked blond hair and thick joules.

"A government official is here to see you Vernon." His wife bounced up to her husband with a thin grin.

"Actually, I'm here to see both of you." Alexander corrected, "If we could speak in the sitting room? I have some news for the both of you."

The Dursleys' were an unpleasant family. Alexander could only think uncharitable thoughts as he settled onto the uncomfortable plastic covered couch.

The father, Vernon was a unsettlingly thick man with heavy dangling jowls that hung low and full over his astonishingly boring brown tie. His forehead was shiny with perspiration.

The mother Petunia, seemed desperately put together in a parody of the perfect housewife with a light floral printed dress and delicately coifed blonde hair.

"So, what is this all about?" Mr. Dursley seemed a bit perturbed about having his afternoon interrupted.

"My name is Alexander Kurpin. I'm an ambassador with the Bulgarian Magical Government. Now while I'm sure Harry has already written to you about the situation, I'm here to answer any questions you might still have."

"Bulgarian Magi-what!? So, you're one of them! One of those freaks!" Mr. Dursley turned an ugly purple color as his voice rose into a roar. He half lifted out of his seat in outrage.

Alexander stiffened and make a aborted twitch for his wand hidden up his sleeve. At the motion the couple both bodily flinched away. Mrs. Dursley in particular, jerked so forcefully that Alexander thought that she would vault backwards over the couch. He narrowed his eyes at the two muggles in front of him suddenly looking cold. "I would suggest you mind your tongue Mr. Dursley, lest something…unfortunate…happen to it."

"You can't do that!" Mrs. Dursley seemed to find her voice while her husband shuddered next to her on the cramped plastic couch. She waved a boney hand at him looking abruptly triumphant as she shrieked "There are laws! I know that you're not allowed to-to do things like that…" she trailed off less confidant as Alexander failed to look intimidated.

"You'll find that even the magical community has seen the benefits of Diplomatic Immunity." Alexander didn't feel the least bit sorry for feeling smug as the couple lost a few shades of color in their faces. Mr. Dursley rotating rapidly from purple to red to white to what Alexander thought was a troubling green shade.

The Bulgarian official took in a deep breath to restore his calm. "Now lets' try again. What exactly has Harry written to you about what has happened this school year?"

Mr. Dursley blustered, "We haven't gotten any post from the boy. What you fr—people get on to doesn't need to effect good decent folk like us, at least the boy knows not to bother us with that sort of business."

Alexander frowned, that did not sound good. "Mr. Potter doesn't write to you?"

Mrs. Dursley regained some of her own calm, fluffing her brittle yellow hair as she huffed, "Well why would he? And we certainly can't have that filthy owl of his flying about house. What would the neighbors think?"

"I see…" Alexander had to concisely focus to unfurrow his brow and steeled himself, this really did not sound good. "Then I assume that you've been contacted by Headmaster Dumbledore about the tournament?"

Dursley's face flushed with color, "We just said we don't want any bloody owls flapping about. What's so hard to understand about that you-" Mrs. Dursley cut across the last of her husband's sentence with a nervous look. "What tournament? What does that have to do with us?"

Alexander eagerly moved on to the meat of why he was here. Hopefully the faster this went the faster he could get out of here. "The Triwizard Tournament is an international competition between three schools, one of which is Harry's academy along with my own alma mater and the French national institution. It's a historically dangerous event so it is only held every ten years or so."

"What does this have to do with the boy? Or more importantly, us?"

"Harry has been chosen as one of the champions. Despite his not being of legal age, he will be one of the champions representing the United Kingdom."

"So, it's dangerous?" Mr. Dursley had a strange unsettling look on his face.

"…Yes…" Alexander frowned. The expression Mr. Dursley had was disturbingly gleeful.

"So, the boy could die?" Mr. Dursley leaned forward eagerly.

"…Yes…"

"Hmmm…" Dursley turned to face his wife, completely forgetting Alexander. "What's the insurance on the boy?"

Alexander was appalled by the smirk Dursley was suddenly sporting. "What?"

Dursley threw a dark grin over to Alexander as he rose and began to herd the man out the door. "Thank you for telling us."

Alexander was aghast as the front door of number four slammed shut in his face. The errant indistinct whispering of the neighbors followed him as he left the seemingly idyllic road of Privat drive.

(LOOK AT THIS LINE! THIS INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE!)

Later that evening Viktor looked up from his essay as Vlad knocked on the doorframe to his cabin. "My bruder is vaiting on the Floo. He vants to talk to you."

Viktor put down his quill and followed Vladmir to the common area. It was deserted except for Vlads' friend Lev, who quickly left after Vlad threw him a look.

"I vill vatch for Karkaroff." Lev tossed over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

Viktor lowered himself to his knees in front of the fireplace. Vlads' brother in law's face was engulfed in flame in the burning logs. "Did you find his family?" Viktor asked.

Alexander's face pinched and a spark of flame lash over his lips as he answered, "Yes but I wish I had not."

"Vhat?"

"His family is appalling!" Alexander growled out suddenly.

"Vhat happened?" Viktor was concerned. Alexander was the very image of a diplomatic official, being cool and calm was his job description and practically his persona.

"His uncle and aunt are the worst sort of muggles. They obviously hate magic and Mr. Potter. Worst of all they were giddy at the thought of him getting hurt or killed."

"Vhy? Vhat kind of person thinks that?" Vlad spit out over Viktor's shoulder.

"I have no idea! The uncle even asked about if they had insurance on him."

"Insurance?"

"I wasn't sure what it was either, so I had to check with a colleague of mine, Mr. Malkin at the embassy, he's a half-blood so I thought he would know. He told me that Insurance is when muggles make financial gambles on their family members dying."

"Vhat?!"

"Yes, supposedly they get a 'pay out' if one of their own is murdered or has an accident."

"Muggles actually profit from misfortune?" Viktor felt

"These ones do."

 **Hello there! Thank you for being patient! Leave a review before you go!**


	12. Chapter 12

Champions united 12

 **It's been a little while since I updated. Things happened and hopefully I'll be able to update more. Also, I've started selling my crafts at Anime Conventions in my area so hopefully my income will increase and my stress will decrease.**

 **Enjoy and leave a review!**

Micah found his brother leaning over the railing of the astronomy tower. His trainers scraped against the floor. The noise startled Marcus enough to drop the cigarette he was inhaling.

Marcus' eyes narrowed in irritation as he turned to his brother. "That was my last one."

"You shouldn't smoke. It's a filthy habit." Micah came to his elbow. His eyes caught the glow of the fag just before it disappeared into the dark woods below them.

"There are a lot worse habits to have." Marcus pocketed his lighter.

The two brothers quietly looked out onto the lake.

"So, Marcus…" The silence dragged between the two brothers until Marcus snapped out. "Speak or don't Micah, this sad middle ground of yours doesn't amuse me. It's a pitiful attempt at dramatics that doesn't suit you."

Micah narrowed his eyes. Marcus was such a prat when he couldn't smoke. "Why did you choose to make Potter aware of his inheritance?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

Micah rolled his eyes at his brother. "Don't play the wholesome Hufflepuff act with me brother."

"In case it has escape you in the last half decade, I am a Hufflepuff."

"You only told Potter because it was beneficial to our family," Micah accused him.

Marcus shrugged, idly flipping his bangs out of his eyes. "You're not wrong, his claiming of the black seat will only advance our status as a household."

"Yes, We could become stewards or castellans," Micah's lips twitched into an insincere smile. "Or Lucius will reclaim the seat, have Potter in his clutches, and we'll be left in the cold. You'll have humiliated our family for nothing."

"Nothing was ever gained by playing it safe." Marcus shrugged off his brothers' concern.

"You never struck me as the gambling type."

"You also forget that it is beneficial to Harry as well. He gets the life and status that certain parties would prefer he remain ignorant of and we get a Lord Black who is grateful beyond measure to our line."

"But if Lucius finds out-" Micah began but Marcus cut him off sounding irritated, "Well then you should make sure Lucius doesn't if you're so concerned, Micah."

"I don't like this gamble of yours brother."

"I'm not asking you to like it. I'm asking you to trust me. Is that so hard?"

"Trust is not a word used in Slytherin."

"You should have let the hat put you in Ravenclaw then, they have a bigger vocabulary."

Micah frowned and gripped the railing in front of him. His expression became thunderous as his bangs slid over his narrow eyes. "We needed a Collinsworth in Slytherin with Malfoy, it was expected." He growled out. "You and Marlow decided to be selfish and join Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I had no choice but to be Slytherin!" The tension drained out of him. Micah suddenly looked very tired. "Besides, Matthew and Maddox need someone there to keep them out of trouble. Someone had to protect them."

"That's a Gryffindorish sentiment if I ever heard one. Mason would be so proud."

"There's no need to insult me with that comparison." Micah huffed sneeringly.

"You were sorted a whole two years before the twins. You're telling me you knew what house they'd be in before the Hat?"

"We all knew Maddox was headed for Slytherin from the moment he learned to talk. And Matthew has always followed where he goes. I had to be in Slytherin, there was no other option."

"…Micah…I-"

"Don't say it, Marcus."

"…what house did the hat want for you?"

Micah sighed rolling his shoulders to ease the tension on his back. "Does it matter? I'm Slytherin." Micah turned away from the balcony and made his way to the door. Facing away from his brother he called over his shoulder. "I'll support this little venture of yours for now. But if the worst should happen, I'll do what I must to protect this family."

"I understand."

Micah left his brother leaning against the rusted railing of the astronomy tower. Just before the chamber door shut behind him. He heard his brother murmur over his shoulder.

"I can think of nothing braver, than a lion willing to lay in a bed of snakes for the ones he loves."

And if Micah Collinsworth's eyes were bit red as he walked into the Slytherin common room, nobody dared to say a thing.

 **Okay relatively short chapter. There will be more up ahead. Rita is going to get what is coming to her. Julian is going to lose his mind about the Dursleys. Who am I kidding everyone is going to lose it! Please leave a review.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I know I've been gone for a while. My mental health took a nosedive and I had to be hospitalized for a while. I'm doing better now. Although updates are still coming they might be sporadic. Please leave a review before you go.**

Harry winced as he caught a glimpse of his face on a nearby newspaper that morning.

Marcus noticed and threw Harry a narrow smile. "Feeding the hippogriff is never pleasant."

"What does it say?"

"Don't you want to read it?" Marcus nudged a spare paper toward him.

Harry grimaced as he looked down at his own face. It was an old picture from second year. They crudely cropped Lockhart out but you could still see an arm gripping his shoulder and pressing him into his side. "No. I'd rather not."

"I don't blame you. It's an ink rag at the best of times." Marcus smirked impishly while looking over Harry's shoulder.

"Hey!" Colby came up from behind and made Harry jolt as he sat down with a thump "That's unfair."

"Totally fair."

"Hmmph." Colby retaliated by swiping a biscuit off Marcus' plate. "Don't worry about it, Harry. This issue is all about the emotional upheaval of the Malfoy house. _Amorous Attack by Malfoy Heir! Malfoy heir accused of courting misconduct! Parkinson betrothal to be annulled?_ It's all kinds of delicious drama on the front page. Clearwater did a fantastic job. Nobody will look twice at the small article over the speculation of a possible werewolf governor all the way down on page 16."

"Oh. Um," Harry looked uncomfortable,

"It's okay Harry. This is just what we have to do for now."

"But Remus will be governor?"

"He should be. The board has already approved his nomination. Now we wait for Lucius' move."

"What do you think he'll do?"

"More than likely he'll call for a meeting of the upper houses and try to overturn the nomination." Marcus looked coolly unaffected as he buttered a scone.

"And will that work?"

"I doubt it. Certainly not if my brothers Maximus and Michael have anything to say about."

"What do they do?" Harry asked.

Colby stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth and frowned as he chewed. "Wait, which ones are they? I always get confused with the order of you guys."

Marcus let out a long suffering sigh. "Maximus is the oldest at 26. He's a mid-level politician. And Michael is the fourth oldest. He's a lawyer. He's also the one in charge of dealing with Skeeter."

"I'm still amazed your mother can still walk. Didn't she just have another?"

"Yes. Malta. She's six months old." Marcus smirked good-naturedly. It was clear he was fond of his littlest sibling.

"So, another sister."

"Yes. Mother is very pleased."

"I'll bet; after ten boys."

"Nine boys." Marcus emphasized.

"Whatever," Colby rolled his eyes dramatically buttering a croissant, "Any word on the tournament? It's only a few weeks before the first event."

"I'm working on it. Any news on Skeeter? "

"Your lawyer brother has already filed a civil demand for assault of a minor. Against Rita specifically. My uncle has put her on admin leave." Colby grinned. "The whole office had a party. Apparently, Rita was less popular with her coworkers than we thought. Clearwater has been getting anonymous gifts left in his new office. Everything from fire whiskey to gold watches."

"New office?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Uncle moved him into Rita's old one."

"Isn't that a little premature? She hasn't been fired yet."

"He didn't really have a choice. The whole floor insisted that he gets the office. Apparently, it was quite a moving staff meeting."

"I'll bet."

-(LINE INDICATES A SCENE CHANGE)-

Augusta Longbottom steadied herself on the arm rest as she wobblily sat down. She was just a smidge less graceful than the years before, but just a smidge. Her faithful house elf Gangly, set a bundle of letters on her tea table next to her cuppa.

"Anything from Neville?" Augusta croaked, then firmly cleared her throat of the phlegm.

"No Mistress. None from young master."

"Hmmph. Well isn't that surprising. Well, then what do we have?" Augusta wasn't surprised that Neville didn't write. He never did. She didn't show how much that hurt her whenever Suzette Smith spoke of how her dutiful grandson Zachariah wrote to her during their weekly tea.

Gangy pulled a thick yellow envelope from the pile. "A post from Master Albert sir!" The house-elves ears were wiggling with delight. Augusta knew that her elf favored her old friend Albert Kingsley. Mostly because the old dog snuck her honey candies whenever he thought Augusta wasn't looking. Augusta smiled as her little elf hopped up to her. "It's no doubt another of his daft adventures or some such nonsense. Might as well put it on the bottom for now."

Gangy pouted but flipped to another. "Lady Odile has sent a letter."

"She's still harping about that niece of hers I imagine. As if I would arrange a betrothal for Neville with that girl. She's twice his age! Next."

"Yes Mistress. The next post is from Lady Prewitt."

"Muriel? Oh, very well then, Read it for me then if you would, my eyes are feeling frail today."

"Yes, Mistress."

" _My Dear Aggy,_

 _My friend I can scarcely wait for you to receive this letter. Today will be recorded as the funniest day of my not insignificantly long life! Lucius (Or Luci: as I enjoy calling him, much to his chagrin) has been or will soon be tossed onto his boot from his governor position. Now I know what you're thinking; How on earth is that possible? Because only a Black can occupy that seat! Well my dear Aggy, it seems that it's only been the idiocies of the justice department that is to blame for the years that I and my fellow governors had to suffer his delightful company. From what I can gather is what that old rascal Sirius Black (Please do keep reading Aggy, I'm sure you'll enjoy this part)-"_

It was a good thing that Muriel wrote that part or else Augusta would have thrown that letter in the fire. Muriel knew that Augusta wouldn't tolerate any mention of that disgusting traitor in her home. With a bracing breath the Longbottom matriarch huffed as she tapped her cane against the hardwood floor. "Well get on with it then. What else does she have to say?"

" _-hasn't ever received a formal trial! Strictly speaking he's never even been questioned about the Potters or anything about the War! Can you believe that? Now, after his escape (and believe you me, I want to be the first to know how that rascal managed that) he has apparently named little Harry Potter as his heir. And that little dear is the one who got the ball rolling with that smart young professor as his nomination. Surely your dear grandson Neville has mentioned him? A Mr. Lupin from last year? Such a bright, polite, young man. I would be delighted to have him next to me on the board. He's done so well for himself despite his health, the poor dear.-"_

His health, right. Augusta knew exactly who she was talking about. The Lycan professor. Neville well enough sung his praises to pieces and for the most part Augusta agreed with him. Anyone who could manage to get her grandson to fire a competent spell had to be a good teacher.

The school did manage to handle his condition well enough for eight months or so but failed in keeping the poor man's secret just that; a secret. Now Augusta knew that there had to be hundreds of Lycan infected wizards and witches in the isles, but because of Dumbledore's actions (or lack thereof) Lupin is the only publically known one in the entire country besides Greyback. That certainly can't be a comfortable situation for him.

Augusta frowned and nodded for Gangy to continue reading the letter.

" _Apparently Luci isn't very pleased about this turn of events. (I for one am extremely pleased by it.) I heard some rumors that he's going to try to usurp the nomination with a wizengamont. I have already written to that daughter and son in law of mine. I know that Albert has sent an owl to his grandson Kingsley (He was quite proud about his promotion this year) about the mis-trial going on with Black. Please tell me that you're going to be present during that meeting. I know that I will be some way or another. I can't tell you how much I want to see Luci knocked off his podium. How that darling Abraxas raised such a pompous and ignorant son I'll never know._

 _All my love,_

 _Muriel Prewitt_

Gangy finished the recitation of her letter and quietly let Augusta absorb what she just heard. "Gangy, Go get a quill and some parchment. We have quite a few letters to send."

 **Now Augusta's in the middle. And you know she's gonna make some waves. Please leave a review before you go!**


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